


Unforgiven Love

by Laziza



Series: Unforgiven Pride [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Rape/Non-con, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:32:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7044784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laziza/pseuds/Laziza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of coming of age… Love and war… And realising you've got to live with your mistakes.</p><p>I'm not JKR, I don't own anything about Harry Potter, and I don't make any money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am slowly trying to edit the story. Thanks for your patience with my spelling and grammar mistakes.

**A** **nd if I only could**

**I'd make a deal with God**

**And I'd get him to swap our places**

_(Kate Bush, Running Up That Hill)_

* * *

_September, 5th, 1976_

" _The very first week of term, Dumbledore!"_

" _Yes, they're a little wild-"_

" _A little?"_ she spurted.

" _B_ _ut they_ _'_ _re not malicious,"_ Dumbeldore said.

" _Sirius Black is much too hot-headed. We can't tolerate-"_

" _Yes, Minerva,"_ he hastened to say _–_ but he seemed more inclined to say it to silence and sooth her than to really agree with her.

" _Do you know they call themselves the Marauders now?"_ The way he said it, it was as if the name was humorous and innocuous enough to prove his point. _"Remus Lupin is a Prefect since last year. I'm sure you can count on him to temper his friends' excess of enthusiasm."_

" _They can be as enthusiast_ _ic_ _as they_ _want_ _when their studies are concerned,"_ she answered tartly. _"_ _I_ _don't know what you let Botherington do last year, but they seem to think that school rules don't concern them_ _any more_ _. And_ _the rest of my House are hardly better!"_

" _Ah! But you're a difficult witch to replace."_ She glared, letting him know he would not get away with flattery. Dumbledore coughed, uncomfortable. _"Botherington may have been a little too old for the responsibility._ _A slight error of judgement._ _"_

Her eyebrows reached her hairline. A little too old… Downright senile, yes! Professor Botherington had retired the first time _before_ Minerva's own mother attended Hogwarts! How and why Dumbledore had persuaded him to return to teaching was a mystery. He must have been quite desperate last year to find anyone willing to become DADA teacher to offer at the same time the position of Head of House.

" _We'll be lucky if Bertram Aubrey's parents don't register a formal complaint with the Board of Governors."_

" _They won't."_ The Headmaster's look was much too innocent to be genuine, but she did not doubt him.

" _I think I should at least contact Black's and Potter's parents."_

She did not really expect Dumbledore to support any kind of drastic disciplining but she was surprised of his defence of Sirius Black.

Here was a fragile boy, he insisted, the first Gryffindor in countless generations in the House of Black. He had a hard time at home about it, and Minerva was _not_ to add to his troubles with rash moves outside of Hogwarts.

Orion and Walburga Black had raised a scandal when Sirius was sorted in Gryffindor, he reminded her, even going so far as to demand that their son was Sorted again. They calmed down only because Phineas Nigellus Black admonished them from his portrait not to be ridiculous – Hogwarts tradition forbids re-Sorting.

Then, they turned against the Potters, accusing them of perverting their son's mind with their revolutionary opinions through his friendship with James. It was quite ridiculous too, of course. The boys seldom met before Hogwarts, only at the largest family gatherings.

Dumbledore was positive the Blacks financed Voldemort and were putting pressure on their sons – if not to enrol in the Death Eaters, at least to support and side with them. He hoped Sirius would be able to hold out against family opposition better than the easily influenced Regulus and that, being the Heir, he would be able to set a new tradition in the Family one day.

Truthfully, Minerva was worrying too. Sirius Black had changed during her absence, and not for the best. He seemed to be on a very dangerous trend of restlessness and rebellion, and she did not know how to curb his callousness – not when most of Gryffindor House and of the girls fawned on him.

He also had such a way to smile and to say droll things in amend that made her smile even when he exasperated her, and she always found it hard to find how to properly chastise him. It was near impossible to convince him to follow more worthy goals than playing less-than-funny pranks. He would never take what she said seriously.

§§§

" _I told you it was too good to be true."_   James Potter was fuming.

" _You've got it bad,_ _James_ _,_ _"_ taunted friendly Sirius Black.

James flushed but answered in kind. _"_ _You can speak!_ _I saw y_ _ou eyeing_ _Evans'_ _tits_ _too_ _."_ He good-naturedly fisted Sirius in the shoulder to emphasize his point.

" _I can appreciate good things when I see them."_ Black waggled his eyebrows suggestively. _"But_ _there are so many witches out there for me, I could never settle for just one. Evans is_ _all yours. Or at least she should be."_

Potter's anger flamed again. _"He must have given her a potion or something. A Dark spell…_ _Th_ _e slimy_ _git!_ _She wouldn't go to him like that. Not after he called her a mudblood to her face."_ He pulled at his hair in frustration. _"You've seen it like me, yes? She refused to even_ look _at him when he went crawling before our door_ _last year_ _... And when Mary and Marlene_ _told her it was her responsibility_ _to make him leave, she sent him packing soon enough._ _"_ He insisted, _"He must have cursed her_ _during the_ _holidays._ _"_

" _Of course, he's cursed her!"_ proclaimed Black. _"He's a_ _ruddy_ _Slytherin!_ _A bad lot all over._ _She can't stand him by day, she_ _w_ _ouldn't come_ _willingly_ _to him by night."_

Sorry that he had told them, Remus Lupin tried to interrupt the flow. _"I_ _t wasn't that bad. I_ _just happened_ _on_ _them_ _speaking_ _during my rounds..._ _Only speaking._ _"_

" _But she wasn't taking points from him!"_

" _Just like I didn't take points from you when I found you on your way back from the kitchen."_

" _Eh! We shared with you,"_ reminded Peter. _"You wouldn't do that to_ _your_ _friends."_

" _Wouldn't I?"_ asked Remus, a little crossly. He was a Prefect but his friends just took it as a good joke.

" _No, you wouldn't,"_ said Sirius with authority. Remus looked up a little uncertainly and his friend poked him gently. _"You like treacle tart too much for that."_

Remus smiled, relieved. _"Alas! You're right."_

James Potter interrupted them. _"It's all very well, but we've got to teach Snape a lesson."_

" _Too right!"_ approved Sirius.

Remus whined. _"James! It's only the first week of term!"_

James crossed his arms. _"_ _All the more reason to make him understand as soon as possible."_

Remus stared stubbornly. _"You've already got double detention for Aubrey."_

" _I see,"_ said James. _"_ _Mr Prefect is a_ _fraid for_ _his_ _reputation."_

Peter could not stand tension, even if he knew that in a battle of will, Remus would always yield in the end to James or Sirius. He said genially, _"We could always_ _try_ _T_ _he_ _M_ _ap."_

Sirius and James brightened and, looking at each other, grinned wickedly.

" _Now, that's talking!"_

" _Wormtail! You're a genius!"_

Old Botherington had given them full marks for their project on the use of Homonculus Charms in Defence, tittering all the time that _"Headmaster_ _Dippet"_ would not like such a _"naughty, naughty thing"_ as their map _…_ But the senile wizard had forgotten all about it, as expected – just like he had forgotten for good to return to the school after a Hogsmeade week-end.

Remus rolled his eyes. _Here we go again._

§§§

Two weeks into the term, Minerva McGonagall had fully settled back in her teacher's persona. People told her she was a born educator, and yes, she felt quite satisfied with herself. Her Gryffindors still took school rules a little too carelessly for her taste right now, but she had already begun to set the record straight.

It was so comfortable to be at Hogwarts again, pampered by the house elves instead of having to mind her magic because of the muggle neighbours – not to speak of having her very own chambers again. Her son and daughter in law had tried not to interfere too much with her habits, but nothing could change the fact that the house was theirs now.

She had never been cut to be a farmer's wife to begin with, or even a housewife, and she had been only too happy to contribute with her wages to pay hired hands. Thank God for Dougal's liberal mind and support! Staying at home worked for Molly, who ran her family like a private business, but it was definitely not her cup of tea.

She could not believe now that she had really been convinced two years ago that quitting Hogwarts would help. Dumbledore had been right to propose a sabbatical when he refused her outright demission. It had only been the distress and depression speaking, though she would have had to take a sabbatical anyway after Dougal's first chemio.

The constant challenge presented by the students was just what she needed to avoid wallowing in self-pity.

The remoteness of the school was no trouble for her. She knew that it was the main reason for staff turn-over. Few teachers committed in a long-term relationship stayed more than a few years: spouses had to make themselves invisible and when their children also happened to be students, they could not visit or even acknowledge their parents publicly. It was hard on family life, and most could not accept it for long.

But Minerva had no family impatiently waiting for her every evening now – and certainly no intention to ever remarry. She still got cold sweat at finding herself alone with men, but at least she did not wince any more at certain students' name – those whose parents she had to... _face_ in the course of the war.

Her own children needed her just occasionally to baby-sit and she could always Apparate home for a nice family _"church and lunch"_ on Sundays when she missed them. She could also Floo to the Burrow any time either Molly or herself needed moral support and a little pick me up.

So, no, she did not feel lonely. She hardly thought about her late husband during the day, even if she still woke up regularly expecting to find him at her side.

Life as the new Deputy Headmistress was good, because it carried even greater responsibilities than being only Head of House – and even if it mostly meant doing the jobs Dumbledore did not like or that he was too careless to do. She needed to be busy.

She soon had more than her fill of it, when an information transpired in the school and struck the students' and teachers' imagination alike: Sirius Black, the "handsome bad boy" of Gryffindor, had run away from home during the summer break and never returned.

Apparently, he had just packed and left after he happened on his mother discussing him with relatives and calling him a disappointment and a disgrace.

He was later heard of at the Potters but his parents refused to get him back, saying he would soon be of age and the Potters were welcome to him. They even instigated a procedure to disinherit him to the profit of Regulus.

Sirius consoled himself by repeating that he was " _f_ _ree at last to make my own choices"_ _,_ but it hurt – Oh! It hurt. He had always known that his parents considered him like an asset to the family rather than a real, flesh and blood person. Now, he had the unavoidable, absolute proof that he always was a _disposable_ asset and that they had never loved him.

When he had returned to Hogwarts, nobody guessed the truth. He was very much the same – in appearance. It was his brother Regulus who made it known, in a fit of pique after Sirius called him _"Mama's boy."_

Minerva worried herself sick over Sirius. Nothing in his education had prepared him to fend for himself. He had been reared to believe he owned the world and was prone to whims and tantrums. Now, the whims turned into a frantic search of immediate gratification with very little regard for others' feelings. He never had a very good opinion of girls, but he was quite busy getting consolation from every witch who felt sorry for him. His opinions had always been clear-cut but he was fast becoming even more intolerant and judgemental about everything that smacked of Pureblood values.

Minerva was sorry for him and tried to help him realise that career orientation was to be his next priority but she was far reaching the end of her patience. All Sirius deigned consider was that _"with James, we ha_ _ve_ _an idea to become Aurors"_ or _"play professional Quidditch",_ or that he could rely on James' father to offer him a position in the family business.

She prayed that the Potters would offer a firm, guiding hand, but she strongly doubted it. They were over-indulgent parents with James, who was not a little spoilt himself. How could they be relied on to give limits to a bewildered teenager like Sirius Black, whose frustration generally erupted in fits of violent provocation? The Potters would more probably indulge Sirius even more, she thought bitterly – no doubt thinking they had to compensate for his parents' abandonment.

§§§

" _Really, t_ _here's no_ _thing_ _to concern yourself about, Minerva._ _It's just a matter of his going back to work. He needs_ _a little more_ _time_ _than his comrades_ _to adjust to school routine,_ _that's all_ _."_

Despite Horace Slughorn's assurance, she could not rid herself of the conviction that Mr Snape needed more than putting the summer break behind, and that there was much to be concerned with the teenager.

It was not normal for a student to be that nervous all the time.

It was not normal for him be so round shouldered that he always looked like he was bracing himself, expecting to be struck.

It was not normal to walk in such a twitchy manner that his hair was jumping around his face because it denoted for her the fear to be attacked – stopping and glancing around swiftly before hurrying to take the next few steps to what looked like a sheltered or protected position.

She unfortunately knew all there was to know about panic attacks and she had to send Severus Snape at least twice to Poppy after meeting him in a corridor pale, shaky and sweating– and he did not even protest. He just looked relieved and even grateful to see her.

" _I don't understand,"_ Poppy told her. _"I'm sorry to say it but, honestly, the last time I've seen that was after Molly and you were ambushed."_

She looked at her friend with worried eyes, trying to gauge the effect of her words.

Minerva gave her a bitter smile. _"_ _Yes..._ _That's how_ _I recognised_ _his_ _problem_ _. I remember how I was expecting Death Eaters to jump from every black corner._ _Severus_ _Snape looks like he's expecting to be attacked all the time."_

Poppy shook her head. _"I don't want to stir trouble, but are you sure_ _it's not again_ _your four… How do they call themselves_ _these days?_ _Ah, yes! The_ _M_ _arauders…"_ Poppy's disgusted tone proved how little regard she had for the little gang. She liked them individually well enough, particularly Remus Lupin who was a sweet, courageous boy when they were alone… But when they banded together, the mischief those four could manage!

Minerva understood her very well. _"I_ _'ve wondered as well_ _, but_ _I haven't caught them at anything recently_ _."_

Poppy pursed her lips. _"Oh, yeah? You've been sorely missed these last two years, you know. Rolanda hated Head of House duties and was just too happy to foist them on Botherington… Who had absolutely no authority on these four. He let them run wild… You can't imagine."_

" _I can imagine very well,"_ she said tartly. _"I have to deal with the result,_ _and with the entire House,_ _not just the four of them_ _."_

She was struck by a sudden thought. _"Now you say it…_ _T_ _hey_ _keep themselves to themselves and_ _they_ _look very_ _smug, for no reason._ _They don't give me much trouble but…_ _I_ _t's too good to be true_ _."_ She straightened and added with resolve, _"I'll keep a closer look, and ask Sir Nicholas to help."_ She sighed, _"and for_ _Severus_ _Snape, what will you do?"_

Poppy shrugged helplessly. _"Calming draught, of course. I swear, that boy alone will have used more of it in his years here than all_ _the_ _other students put together."_

She then bemoaned that a sixteen year old should not eat so little. Sure, they all tended to be either gangling or a little too fat at that stage of life, but even the thin ones did not push their food around their plate instead of eating it. Not for a whole month, as he had been doing since the beginning of term and with the dark rings under his eyes threatening to become as permanent a feature in his face as his distinctive nose.

" _It's not a matter of not enough food this time,"_ she insisted, as if Minerva would reproach her. _"It's mental and that's the reason I can't do anything about it. I just hope it will stop soon enough, or he'll be doing permanent damage to his health."_

They shared helpless looks. Severus Snape had never been happy at school to begin with, with so many things to set him apart. He had been a stunted, and Poppy suspected, an abused child. It gave him at times a frightened rabbit look that made him an obvious target in first year—until the Slytherins and Minerva's own Gryffindors discovered that he had a temper and the magical abilities to match it.

Minerva also remembered his total lack of manners when he arrived. It was so appalling that Lucius Malfoy, the acknowledged Prince of Slytherin, had enrolled the help of one of the most polished of Slytherin's polished purebloods – the kindest hearted too – Miss Narcissa Black herself, to try and teach the boy so that their House did not have to blush for him. There was one thing, though, that they had not been able to cure him of: his unusual friendship with the muggleborn Lily Evans. It was certainly what was most frowned upon by their respective House mates.

But since her absence, there had been a shifting in relationships, as it so often happens with teenagers. Mr Snape used to shadow Miss Evans during the previous years ( _"attached at the hip"_ Rolanda called them), but now they studiously ignored each other most of the time.

Their closeness had been one of the things that stirred the worst in the Marauders, who did not seem to realise where stood the limit between pranks and outward bullying. They had been forever taunting the pair and physically attacking the Slytherin boy.

The Snape-Evans friendship was apparently at an end, but had the Marauders really relented?

§§§

" _Didn't I tell you to stop looking at Lily Evans, Snivellus?"_

Suspended upside down once again, Severus Snape only glared, prudently saying nothing. They had caught him alone, while he was returning to the Slytherin Dungeon – and it ought to have been impossible, Disillusioned as he'd been.

He willed himself to stop panicking. To breath slowly. To not look at his wand, three meters away. A coward like Pettigrew who stood in the background was perfectly able to snap it – just because he could.

Severus hardly blinked. You do not blink in front of predators. You just prepare yourself for the attack.

He did not have to wait long. Even the Evil Four were not crazed and overconfident to the point of dragging it out.

Without warning, he was released from his own spell – he still did not know how they'd learned it. With an ease born of unfortunately frequent practice, he rolled to avoid banging his head or breaking a bone.

A foot crushed his chest, effectively clamping him to the ground.

" _You've been a bad boy, Snivellus,"_ sing-songed Sirius Black. _"_ _Sniffing around Evans like_ _that_ _._ _Tsk-tsk-tsk."_ Black smiled brightly at his friends and then back at Severus. _"_ _Maybe we shouldn't let you be a boy at all. Mmm?_ _How_ _would you_ _like_ _to be able to sing contralto? You'd le_ _ave_ _decent girls alone."_ He pressed his foot harder, lower, drawing a pained gasp out of Severus. _"_ _W_ _e'd be sure there_ _'d_ _ne_ _ver be another waste of magic like you._ _"_

Severus did not flinch. He knew it was not a totally empty threat. The heir of the House of Black had always been entitled to every kind of indulgence and excuses, but he _was_ a crackpot. Anger him enough, and he was perfectly capable to carry out any of the outrageous threats he liked to hurl in your face.

So, he concentrated on Potter. That one, you could count on to deliver, square and fair, and viciously, but he was at least able to think about consequences.

Sure enough, as soon as their eyes met, James Potter's handsome face twisted and he pushed his friend to take his place. _"_ _There's merit in what you say, Sirius."_

The hesitant voice of Remus Lupin raised from behind. _"James… You promised. No permanent damage…_ _Yes?_ _You just want him to stay away from Lily._ _"_

Potter rolled his eyes. Severus would have done the same, if he was not sure it would worsen the punishment to come.

" _The voice of reason,"_ snapped James Potter.

Severus knew enough to brace himself.

§§§

They slipped in their dorm, breathless and oh! So high on adrenaline. They had run all the way back after Peter caught a glimpse of light which could only be a ghost but as usual, they had made it.

The triumphant laugh died out on Sirius Black's lips as he found himself in front of a thoroughly incensed Professor McGonagall. Nearly Headless Nick hovered behind her, shaking his head out of alignement. He was a gentleman and there were things – cowardly things – which were unworthy of the House of Gryffindor.

§§§

It was all Snivellus' fault, after all.

Sirius watched James tighten his fists every time he opened the map and found the point called Severus Snape keeping company to the point called Lily Evans – which happened every evening since… Since they'd been caught.

Evans had run to the Infirmary as soon as she was told and she'd been shooting them disgusted looks whenever she passed by. She and Snivellus did not even hide any more.

Why James would torture himself about that little mud...

Sirius corrected himself: even anger wouldn't reduce him to the level of his parents.

She might be just a little tart, but if James wanted Lily Evans, he was going to have Lily Evans. Hopefully, things would get right again after that.

Unfortunately, they were grounded. Every evening they had to return to the common room immediately after dinner. Professor McGonagall had warned them that Sir Nicholas had special instructions to report immediately if they were not in their dorm at the appropriate time.

The ghost was apologetic, but relentless. He had given his word to a Professor, and a lady. The only thing he could do was make himself scarce on the full moon, the Headmaster's old order taking precedence over McGonagall's to keep Remus' secret.

Remus sulked, his Prefect badge suspended for a month. He refused to listen when Sirius tried one more time to make him understand that it was no one's fault but Snape's.

The fool marched away from him, grinding out, _"Get stuffed!"_

" _Fine! Sulk all you want,"_ he shouted to Remus' back, since he never turned. _"See if I care!"_

It was all Snivellus's fault!

Someone had to do something. _A_ _nd obviously, it_ _'ll have to be me_ , Sirius thought.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Only know you love her when you let her go**

**And you let her go**

**Oh oh oh no**

**And you let her go**

**Oh oh oh no**

**Well you let her go**

(Passenger, Let her go)

* * *

**One day I feel it's love, next day it's not enough**

**Because…**

**Un, deux, trois,**

**Comme ci, comme ci, comme ça,**

**One day I feel so high, next day I want to cry**

_**(French Affair, Comme ci Comme ça)** _

* * *

_Dialogue in **bold italic** is from DH, chapter 33._

* * *

_October 9th, 1976_

Six weeks into the term, and Severus Snape was in the hospital wing yet again!

This time, he arrived in shock, according to Madam Pomfrey who was keeping him there for a few days.

Dumbledore had insisted to spend some time with the boy, against the Matron's wishes, but he was adamant he had to try to understand what happened to take the appropriate measures.

A fat lot of good it did, according to Poppy, who found the teenager tightened in a foetal position after the Headmaster's departure and unable to speak without crying.

Minerva was furious. She did not know what really happened – the Headmaster was a clam about it, but it had to be serious for him to inform his Deputy in clipped accents of his decisions regarding Black and Potter.

Sirius Black was to have evening detentions until the end of year and was barred from Quidditch, Hogsmeade week-ends and all clubs – the very last step before being sent down – while James Potter was commended for his quick thinking in rescuing a fellow student and bringing him to the Infirmary. He awarded enough points to Potter to balance the abysmal loss earned by Black, that had nearly given her a stroke when she noticed the hourglass this morning.

When she asked, _"and what about Severus Snape?"_ he sighed. _"It's taken care of. Poppy knows what to do."_

Poppy was far from knowing what to do, but when she suggested to send the boy to Healer Constanz in St Mungo's, who was the authority about psychological traumas, Dumbledore was very reluctant.

Minerva found it highly suspicious, since Constanz was a friend of Dumbledore's, and he'd himself arranged for the Healer to treat Molly and herself two years ago.

Poppy found it just as disconcerting but when she proposed to Snape to send him to St Mungo's, he shrugged and refused.

It made Minerva even more determined to find the truth.

It was obvious that Sirius Black had been the ringleader or the main culprit and that, for once, even James Potter did not approve.

Remus Lupin, usually a rather servile follower, had ostensibly distanced himself from Black. He was very angry, if Minerva was any judge. He looked at his friend as if he had been betrayed.

Peter Pettigrew danced between them, unable to choose a side.

Outside the common room, the four Marauders were thoroughly chastened. Even James Potter for all the praise and points he had received, which proved he had a guilty conscience.

Prefect Lily Evans, always the arbiter of Gryffindor morale and morals, had been wild for several days. Minerva had watched the girl several times in hot discussion with an apologetic James Potter and a disgruntled Remus Lupin, while Black and Pettigrew prudently played least in sight.

She had also been seen hurrying to the Infirmary. It seemed she had reconciled with Severus Snape for good, though Poppy heard a few heated words that alarmed her more than anything.

" _ **Saved? Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends' too!"**_

But try as she might, they were all as mute and evasive as Dumbledore when Minerva tried to get to the bottom of it. Teenage dramas were at all times difficult to follow, so quickly could their moods change and the dynamics of their relationships. Lily Evans was concerned for Severus Snape, but she sided with the Marauders to fool their Head of House as soon as she realised that the Headmaster told her nothing.

Severus Snape himself refused to speak even when she solemnly promised that the culprits would be dealt with. She did not understand why, because it was obvious he was dying for it, but he only told her resentfully, _"I've nothing to say."_

Once again, omertà reigned in the school.

§§§

After a month of fastidious good behaviour, Sirius Black returned to his constant altercations with Severus Snape. He was impossible to curb for long, and it was infuriating.

Snape was never backward in nastiness to be sure, but he was seldom the one to begin things and it would have taken a much more reasonable person to resist Black's permanent taunting—particularly with James Potter unable to resist long to add fuel to the flames.

Minerva had to intervene in her classroom on a constant basis about stage-whispered insults, stolen or damaged notes and for minor hexes.

What disturbed her the most was that she could now discern a cold hatred in Severus Snape's eyes when they followed Sirius Black instead of the hot-headedness she was used too, and there was an almost fanatical obsession with the Slytherin in Sirius Black. It was as if simply seeing each other had the same effect as waving a red rag at a toro, only Black always charged at once, while Snape seemed to bide his time.

She brought her concern to the next staff meeting only to have it dismissed.

Boys would be boys. It was the usual course of the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry – _"_ _H_ _ave you been away for so long that you've forgotten_ _?"_

Yes, Sirius Black was hot-headed and stubborn to the point of stupidity at times, but Severus Snape always gave as good as he got, they all assured. In fact, he had been known to use spells much beyond his year, and even unknown ones. Rumour had it they were Dark spells.

She asked loudly why Dumbledore tolerated it then, but the Headmaster just wiped his glasses without looking at her. She could almost hear her father preaching from the pulpit about Pontius Pilate washing his hands, and about moral cowardice.

" _He's_ _never been caught red-handed,"_ Dumbledore said at last.

She wondered wryly if he was only speaking about Severus Snape.

Minerva left feeling that her colleagues were a little too comfortable with the situation. They were happy to let his Head of House take the responsibility for speaking to Severus Snape but she knew that Horace Slughorn, for all his joviality, cared little for the well being of his charges. The famous or the rich ones, for sure—and more often than not, the prettiest amongst the girls. The others...

Severus Snape's tutoring was paid by a Charity fellowship and everything he owned screamed "poverty". He had nothing to attract Slughorn's particular brand of benevolence.

Filius Flitwick had told her that the boy didn't even have a proper wand. The one he used had been his mother's when she was herself at school. She would never have guessed, considering how proficient he managed to be with it. Sure, he was not as brilliant as Miss McKinnon or Mr Potter in her classroom but he was still very good. It was rather frightening when you thought about it because it told much about the real magical power of the boy – or about his force of will – for him to be able to use with so much fluidity a wand not really attuned to him.

The other teachers found him unsettling more often than not. Severus Snape was the worst kind of swot, and he never hesitated to grill his professors to understand a point or to expose maliciously any lack of expertise on their part. No wonder none were inclined towards leniency when yet another incident happened in their classroom.

It was a sure recipe for disaster, and now, as Deputy Headmistress, she wondered if it was not too late to make Severus Snape realise it. Oh! There was no question he could pass his NEWTs standing on his head, but how was he going to fit in the world if he could not fit with his contemporaries at school, and if he did not respect social figures of authority?

She asked Dumbledore what they could do about it, but he annihilated her arguments.

Despite his atrocious social skills, the boy had not given her real trouble beyond his being targeted by the Marauders and retaliating quite creatively. He was even one of her best students, one who excelled all the more because he had to prove things. Every teacher in the school said the same. Taunting did not prevent him from studying, so what was the problem?

Hard words break no bones, Dumbledore assured, and forged the will - he was himself proof of it.

Try as she might, Minerva found herself just as incapable to reach Severus Snape as she had been to help Sirius Black. It was not very rewarding to try to help people who just did not want to be helped.

Snape was elusive, distant – irritating with his way of dancing around the subject without ever providing a candid answer. He even dared to act resentful that she and Poppy cared, but she noticed he was forcing himself to eat more properly – though with a sullen scowl permanently stuck on his face, and a defiant stare whenever he noticed her looking.

She told herself she had done all she could.

So, why was she left with the nagging feeling that she had failed?

§§§

_January 1977_

The Snape boy had lost his mother, the news reaching Hogwarts the very next day after his coming of age.

He had dismissed her condolences with a hasty _"thank_ _you_ _"_ , as if he was bored, but once she had noticed and seen through the rather clever glamour, the red rims and heavy bags under his eyes belied his apparent indifference.

She did not hear much about it from her colleagues, except from Slughorn. The Slytherin Head complained ceaselessly about all the red tape he had to file for the Ministry. Mr Snape would not be of age in the muggle world before the following year, but he demanded formal emancipation.

This was how she learned that he was a half-blood.

" _It's not totally unheard of,"_ explained Dumbledore when she asked. _"Of course, you can't expect the Slytherins to advertise it, but every few years there's one or two half-bloods sorted in the House."_

§§§

Minerva had not much trouble in her classroom with the sixth years these days, and she regretted it – because her usual troublemakers were only subdued by personal tragedies, full of pent up emotions ready to explode, and not really growing up or becoming more mature.

Sirius Black and James Potter kept a low profile since Dumbledore had made good marks and better attitude a condition of his recommendation for the Auror Corps.

Severus Snape was concentrating even more fiercely than before on his studies but it seemed a mean to escape reality and to keep himself busy at all times. He did not seem to hang with Lily Evans any more either.

Was it the cause or the consequence? It soon became apparent that his dorm mates had decided that they had to keep an eye on him to prevent any kind of relapse into mudblood loving. She saw him much too often for her taste with objectionable characters like Avery and Mulciber, but the clever Evan Rosier was shadowing him too.

She wondered if it had anything to do with the presence of Lucius Malfoy during the Hogsmeade week-ends and all the time he spent dicussing in private with Severus Snape at The Three Broomsticks.

§§§

" _For the last time, Sev!"_ she pleaded.

" _Lily!"_ he sighed exasperated, pulling at his long locks. He walked to the nearest window, watching the grounds, the groups of students already leaving for the station and the Easter break. _"We've already had this discussion. Go take your train. I stay at Hogwarts. I'll even get paid by Slughorn for doing the Infirmary's brewing for him."_

His voice dripped with bitterness as he added, _"_ _God knows I need the money and any recommendation he'll give me."_

He heard her coming, and felt her hand on his back, but he did not turn.

" _My parents like you. They'd be happy to have you home."_ Lower, she said, _"So would I."_

" _W_ _e have to face the truth,"_ he sighed. _"_ _You_ _'re just putting off the evil day."_

" _We graduate only next year."_

" _Next year, it will be too late."_

" _Too late? We're seventeen. How can it be too late?"_

" _Yet, I remember clearly one year ago when you told me that I'd chosen my path and you'd chosen yours."_

" _Don't you dare use my own words against me! You know it's not the same. We're not the same."_

He turned to her at last and gripped her arms.

" _N_ _othing is possible between us_ _in the long term,"_ he said. He was beginning to be sick of repeating it. _"Do you like to be under constant watch by your House mates? I don't._ _I'll only be a dead weight round your neck… or you'll be one round mine. We'll end hating each other, as my parents did."_

She freed herself and shouted angrily, " _We're not your parents!"_

Just as angry as she was, he spat, _"_ _They loved each other… once."_

He began to take angry turns in the room, like a caged tiger. " _My father thought_ _Mum_ _walked on water! And she believed she'd make_ _her family_ _ben_ _d_ _to her wishes."_ He shouted at her, _"See where it brought them?_ _She's_ _dead and I will always be called a half-breed… The son of a mudblood!_ _Is_ _that what you'd want for our children?!"_

Lily looked at him coldly. _"Would you call me a mudblood again?"_

Unable to look her in the eye, he said, _"I can't promise I wouldn't."_

As she gasped, he ran to her, pleading, _"you know I don't think of you like that."_ He regretted his weakness immediately, stiffened and stepped back.

In a brittle, hardly controlled voice, she asked, _"But under enough provocation, you may?"_

" _I don't know."_ He honestly could not be sure he would never be provoked enough to insult her again – he had the worst memory of his life to prove it…

Her face crumpled, but she did not cry. She refused to cry. She walked to the door, but could not leave without hurting him as much as he was hurting her.

" _Remember it wasn't me who wanted to part ways. Remember that if you loved me enough-"_

" _Don't go that way, Lily,"_ he warned in a tightly controlled voice.

He could have said that she clung to him mostly through habit… That he doubted it could guarantee happily ever after – not when he did not really think she loved him. Or rather, he knew she loved him, but she did not _like_ him. She never really accepted him as he was. A Slytherin… Fascinated by the Dark Arts… Loathing Dumbledore, that arch-hypocrite all Gryffindors revered... Uninterested by what most of his contemporaries appreciated: the latest fads, clothes or broom model, trendy places, social life... How could she say she wanted to spend her life with him when she always wanted him to change?

He kept his silence, because it would only fuel her need to argue.

Lily, like her sister, was often intransigent. She could hold stubbornly on narrow-minded ideas. She was somehow convinced he owed her, that he had to love her forever because she had given him her virginity.

Loving her was not a problem, but certainly not for so trite a reason, and he did not know how to explain that even love had to get some reward to survive.

" _You're brilliant, Lily, and just as ambitious as I am... But in this world, if you're not from the right family, you know making a career goes with marrying well. Set your eyes on someone else."_

She snorted. _"You sound like a character out of Jane Austen or Dickens!" S_ he spat in disgust, _"And to think that last summer you were speaking of founding a Communist Party in Wizarding Britain!"_

" _But the Wizarding world is still very much like Dickens!"_ he shouted. _"And last summer, my mother was alive!"_

It silenced the both of them for a full minute, but not longer, glaring at each other as they were.

Coldly, he insisted, _"I only want the best for both of us."_

She looked at him as if she was discovering him for the first time. _"And that's why you suggest me to sell myself to the highest bidder?"_

" _Come, Lily! Not so long ago, you were the one telling me that you couldn't blame Petunia for running after rich boys and you laughed when she said it's easier to fall in love with a rich man than with a poor one."_

A suspicion gripped her. _"Hanging out for a rich wife yourself, are you? Or maybe a wealthy widow?"_

He rolled his eyes. _"You're ridiculous."_

" _Not as much as you are. Is it what you hope, hanging around with Lucius Malfoy all the time? That he'll find you a_ good _job, a_ good _marriage? I think he's the one looking for a good crawler."_

" _You're always belittling the only real friend that I have."_

" _You're not from his world and he can't understand anything about ours. I'm sure he's the one who's stuffed your head with all that rubbish."_

He flushed, because it was true Lucius had sown the seeds of doubt in his mind, but only because he was older and more mature. _"How little you know about him… And about me."_

" _You don't even see how much you've changed since you've become_ friends _, as you say, with Malfoy. You're even worse than when you were following Avery and Mulciber in fifth year."_ She patted her left forearm meaningfully. _"Maybe you're ready to accept another kind of proposal?"_

If he would ever be tempted to hit her, it was right now. How typical. For all her so-called moral standing, she never hesitated to throw in his face that he would forever be suspected of venality and of Death Eater sympathy, simply because he was a Slytherin.

Avery and Mulciber were quite sadistic idiots but they were his room mates. Who was he supposed to share time with? The werewolf?

Barely restraining himself from asking who was dishonest and prejudiced here, he ground out, _"It's not in my immediate planning."_

She shook her head. _"_ _I don't think we've much to say to each other after that."_

He never answered.

§§§

It had been too long since they last met in the forgotten little court.

He had been surprised when she gave him the old sign but he'd answered in kind. He missed her. How he missed her – even if it was irrational to still pine for her.

" _James asked me out and I said yes."_

She was proud of the way she had thrown her little bomb, oh! so casually – but she could not help narrowing her eyes as she was willing him to react. It was the last Hogsmeade week-end, and she wanted to go with him. _Say something, Sev. Say something. DO something._

He did, but not what she expected.

He walked to the door and only looked back long enough to say, _"Good for you. He's rich and popular, and quite easy to manage I imagine. It's all for the best, then."_

Of all the times he had to choose to be so infuriatingly proud and inflexible, it had to be now!

 _S_ he heard her pride – her stubborn pride – speak for her. _"You're right, Sev. It's for the best."_

He did not look back, even when she added, _"You know, James is nothing like I expected."_

But he froze. For one brief second.

He said, in a rather thick voice but still without turning back, " _I wish you joy and luck."_

And he was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Marauders's timeline is not well documented. I make Sirius leave his family during the summer holidays before sixth year and put the nearly deadly prank in the Shrieking Shack not long after. We are only told in the books that Sirius is "about sixteen" at the time he leaves home. It seems quite strange that he could not be more precise about the timing, since it is the kind of event one does not forget. I choose to interpret it as meaning that he is not yet seventeen and therefore still legally a minor... a situation that will enable him to plead for indulgence and deny responsibility.


	3. Chapter 3

**You believe but what you see**

**You receive but what you give**

(Nightwish, Amaranth)

* * *

Abraxas Malfoy eyed him scornfully but Severus had long grown impervious to scorn. He gave stare for stare and just waited. He despised himself for the wild beating of his heart. He forced his body to relax and to avoid taking a defensive stance.

" _So, what have you to say for yourself, young man?"_

" _I beg your pardon?"_

" _Why would I house a stray dog? Give me one reason to keep you."_

He was not disappointed, he said to himself, though it would probably be difficult to forgive Lucius for leading him on.

No. Lucius could be an ass more often than not, but he was true blue. If he invited Severus to spend the summer at his family home, he meant it. He had just presumed too much about the open-mindedness of his father – and who was he to berate any one about their father?

He was the idiot. He should have expected something like that the very moment he Apparated in front of Malfoy Manor. It was the kind of place he did not even know existed before going to Hogwarts, and he could almost hear Black or Potter sneering that it was no place for the likes of him.

" _I think you're mistaken, sir. Nobody keeps me. I've been led to believe I was invited but I have no intention to overstep my welcome. I wish you good day."_

He felt vaguely satisfied with himself that he had not sounded too Mancunian even under the unnerving attention of Lucius' father.

A light stinging hex prevented him to open the door, and found him wand at the ready in the blink of an eye. He stopped himself just in time before blowing his host across the room.

The man was already putting his wand away. He did not look menacing, only bored but there was an amused flicker in his eyes.

Severus flushed in embarrassment. He could hardly have been any ruder, or prove his point more perfectly for Malfoy. _"Sorry, sir._ _Reflexes._ _"_

Malfoy dismissed the apology with a vague gesture. _"I asked you a question, young man."_

" _And I answered."_

_Two can play that game, Mr Lord-of-the-Manor._

Abraxas Malfoy smirked. _"Lucius likes you."_

" _So?"_

" _He just saw fit to inform me that he's invited you for the summer."_

" _Lucius only means to help me. I'm sure he never dreamt to offend you."_

" _You don't understand. It's the first time Lucius didn't ask for my opinion first."_

 _How unfortunate for you,_ thought Severus. _Have you never realised that Lucius is an adult, and a wizard in his own right? Do you mean to keep him on a leash?_

Malfoy smirked even wider. _"You're not a point of contention, and I certainly won't dispute his right to invite who he wishes. I'm just curious to discover what my son sees in you."_

" _I… I suppose it's just that we're friends."_

" _How many friends do you have?"_

Severus gulped. _"Just Lucius."_

" _And how's that?"_

Severus shrugged. _"Let me see. I'm poor… Not exactly well-favoured..."_ he gestured at his nose. _"I'm much smarter than most people I know... I generally speak my mind... What's not to like?"_

" _I see your point."_ With a hard stare, he added, _"You're not interested in Lucius' money by any chance?"_

Surely, the man could not be asking if he was going to grab the silver and run? Or to say to his face that he was there to lick his boots?

The conversation was growing totally absurd.

Severus narrowed his eyes at his host, considering. Malfoy had yet to call him a half-breed or something in the same vein, when it should have been the first thing to lay on the table. Lucius had assured him he had told his father.

It must be some sort of silly test.

Malfoy nodded in approval. _"You need to be trained in Occlumency, I see. Your outward control is good, but you're totally transparent as soon as you feel challenged. This is never good. Not if you're to become a regular host of this house. I hope for you to get at least to Lucius' level. He's quite good, but totally crap at Legilimency, just like his mother_ _was_ _."_

" _You're telling me that you've been reading my thoughts?"_

Malfoy bowed mockingly.

" _Just like the old bastard,"_ mumbled Severus to himself.

" _Which old bastard?"_

" _Dumbledore."_

" _Oh? You've figured that out? Not many people realise the unscrupulous source of his so-called omniscience."_

Severus smirked. _"He pretends to care and to understand your deepest concerns… but he narrows his eyes when you think very hard that he's a dirty old hypocrite."_

" _And of course, you make a point of thinking it very hard?"_

" _Yes."_

Malfoy bit his lips not to laugh. _"I think I understand what Lucius sees in you. It will be a pleasure to train you."_

Incredulous, Severus could not help asking, _"So you've decided to keep a stray dog?"_

" _I thought you told me nobody keeps you?"_

" _I thought you expected me to steal your family heirlooms."_

" _You're welcome to try if you've a death wish. Seriously, you're Lucius' friend. He hasn't that many either, and even less who do not try to use him. He asks me to help you if I can, and I think I will."_

He poured himself a glass of something obviously strong and costly and proposed one to Severus, who shook his head.

" _I can't go on calling you Young man. What's your full name?"_

" _Severus Tobias Snape."_

" _Why don't you wear your family's name? Surely it is not Tobias."_

" _Tobias is my father's name. That's how it works with muggles."_

" _Yes. Lucius tells me you're a half-blood. I won't hold that against you."_

Snape shrugged, not very politely.

" _So, who are your mother's parents and grandparents?"_

" _I don't know."_

Malfoy frowned. _"What do you mean, you don't know?"_

" _My mother's family washed their hands of her when she decided to marry my father."_

" _I wouldn't sit myself at family gatherings in front of a mudblood in-law either and I might have killed your mother if she had been mine but what about you?"_

" _Me?"_ The youth was staring back, obviously at a loss.

Abraxas suddenly understood that the teenager really had no idea what he was asked.

_Merlin!_

" _Her_ _family cut you too?"_

" _Obviously."_ He remembered too well the only letter Eileen Snape had ever received from her parents. She had shown it to him the first and only time he spoke about the possibility of an apprenticeship in Potions and what it would cost. It said, _'we can't have a grandson since we have no daughter.'_ This time, he felt Abraxas Malfoy picking the thought.

" _They are as churlish as the Black family it seems."_

" _Is it possible?"_

Abraxas laughed delightedly. _"You don't like the Blacks either? Well, I'll have to be gracious to them soon enough since Lucius wants none other than his Narcissa, but they'll have to swallow more than I will. Now, seriously, what's your mother's_ _blood_ _line?"_

The boy was as lost as any muggle, though obviously trying to figure what information he was expected to impart.

How did he make it to Slytherin House? And what did that idiot of Slughorn teach to his charges these days?

To cut the nonsense, Abraxas asked more directly, "w _hat's your mother's_ _birth_ _name?_ "

" _Eileen Calpurnia Prince."_

" _I suspected as much since Severus isn't a very common name."_

" _You know more than me."_

" _Your grandfather is Alexander Severus Prince and his father was Septimus Severus Prince. The Princes don't inflict constellations names on their offspring like the Blacks,"_ he said with disgust, _"Only Roman emperors."_ His tone proved he did not approve of the Princes' pretension either.

" _Ah."_ Severus wondered if he was supposed to care.

" _Your mother never told you about her family?"_

" _Nothing beyond that I was on my own."_ He did not like Malfoy's disapproving look and felt compelled to defend his mother. _"She was ill, you know, for almost as long as I can remember and not always coherent. She was barely able to teach me the basics of magic. It wasn't to speak about her family. She didn't like them anyway."_

" _You're mighty cool about it. Family is important for a wizard. The Prince line is almost extinguished. They would need new blood."_

He shrugged. _"They're nothing to me."_

" _But you could be something to them,"_ he said, trying to be the voice of reason.

" _I don't think so, no."_

Stubborn. _"There are not many Princes left either here or on the Continent – not after they made the mistake to openly support Grindelwald. You could claim the name and even some inheritance somewhere along the line, even if your grandfather carries a stupid grudge."_

" _You Purebloods are an awfully sentimental lot."_

" _I'll have none of your insolence, Severus Snape."_

" _Sorry, sir. Stray dogs are not very polished, you know. But I'll never have anything to do with them."_

" _You're still young. It might come in useful one day."_

" _It is a question of principle."_

" _Oh! Yes! The principles of the young... You'll learn that no wizard can prosper without kinship or a network of relationships. It's the reason why muggleborns... or muggle-raised for that matter, do not rise easily in this world."_

" _I know, sir. It's just that I'd rather be the first of my name than the end of theirs." *_

Abraxas could not find fault with the young man's pride – particularly when it could serve his own ends. Because Lucius was right: Severus Snape had been awfully wronged.

Abraxas did not care much for his fellow wizards, but there were limits to immorality and it seemed Alexander Severus Prince had broken them where his grandson was concerned.

The old saying was _"_ _k_ _ill them or keep them"_ , meaning that there was no middle road when the honour, safety and purity of the magical line were concerned.

It was implicitly admitted that you could solve a family embarrassment by discreetly disposing of your squibs, cuckoos or mongrels. Abraxas himself had sent Ad Patres –whoever they had been – an unwelcome, Indian-looking gift from his shameless wife, and his father-in-law had been the one to decide a mother must not be separated from her child… or cause further shame to her parents. But if you could not stomach it, your duty to your Family required you to accept full responsibility and make the most of it. (To this day, Abraxas did not know what he would have decided if the baby had been Caucasian and he could have avoided to be made a laughing stock.)

Muggle Britain said that the younger sons had made the glory of their empire. The wizards could say the same of their half-bloods. It was an open secret that they generally were more dedicated and often ended more powerful than their lazier, pureblood relatives. Therefore, they were precious to refresh old blood lines.

It was not that difficult, so what grudge could the Princes carry against their daughter that they would reject even her offspring?

The wizarding world had long found that adoption was a very convenient way to make legal purebloods out of shameful errors. Truly talented magical blood was rare, despite what the inbred, so-called "sacred twenty-eight" pretended. Consorting with mudbloods smacked of loose morals but casting away your own magical blood was even more immoral and frowned upon.

The Blacks, once the most powerful lineage in the country, had lost prestige and power very rapidly once they began to make a sport of throwing away the dissidents of the family and to transform their family tapestry into Swiss cheese.

It had to be that way. A _Paterfamilias_ who failed his kinsfolk by not ensuring the survival and the power of the line would see the obedience and power of his family going to more trustworthy patrons or collaterals.

Cygnus Black had to double Bellatrix' dowry (thus increasing the Lestrange Family status) to get her married after he cast away Andromeda and she had a child – when it would have been far cheaper and more dignified for her to simply meet with a regrettable accident. They would have gained a very rare Metamorphmagus in their line, to mould to their wishes. Silly wizard.

Alphard Black (who was by far the cleverest of them all) had tried a few weeks ago to atone for his elder brother Orion's insanity when he cut his own heir away. He settled money on young Sirius... only to find himself cast off too! Alphard had of course immediately transferred his power, loyalties and status to his wife's family by getting himself adopted at once, while Sirius was to become one of Potter's own – and thus, another step down for the Noble and Most Stupid House of Black...

If the Potters could choose to fling it in the Blacks' face, why would Abraxas hesitate to do it to the Princes who had been so foolish as to cut their own nose to spite their face?

Because this is what it was, in the end. They could have chosen the way of honour and kill their daughter's mudblood before he impregnated her. Failing that, it would have been in their best interest to make the most of the situation and take her offspring for themselves.

But they had discarded him as well – that brilliant son who could have boosted the family's fortunes back. There was not one of them left under the age of ninety now... and certainly none that could have the slimmest chance to sire any viable, magical offspring. They were finished.

Abraxas smirked. It had been too long since he had such opportunity for fun – probably not since he had taught that pretentious upstart, Nobby Lynch, that he could not mess with wizarding traditions even if he was Minister.

Malfoy was glad that his son had the hindsight to see beyond the young Snape's appearance and to appreciate his sharp mind. Lucius showed promise and one could reasonably hope that under his care _L'Auguste Maison de Malfoy_ * would continue to prosper on both sides of the channel.

He would watch Severus Snape over the summer, he decided here and there. If he learned to accept his advice and passed the test of loyalty, Abraxas would officially become his Patron.

Of course, extending his protection to one so young and not yet out of Hogwarts would be a sure proof to the world that he meant to adopt the young man into the Malfoy line – at least, if he proved himself able to fulfil the promises of his gifts.

Cygnus Black would understand the meaning of his slap to the Princes' face. He would have to be even more generous with Narcissa than he had been with Bellatrix. And the best thing was that the girl was clever and ambitious. Lucius would get all her loyalties and status, with more than her fair share of house elves and their trade.

The House of Black was running dry of kinsmen, of money and power by their own fault.

How the mighty had fallen was no reason to mourn for Abraxas. It served them right and the Malfoys would catch as much as they could, with tradition and morality on their side.

As far as Severus Snape was concerned, every accomplishment or success of his he would now owe to the Malfoys.

It might very well be the perfect solution to Abraxas' dilemma.

Lucius was his only child – his only living, magical child – and he himself had no surviving siblings. His marriage had been such a disaster that he had no wish to marry again. It was still too soon to decide, but adoption could be the way to gain good magical blood in his line.

Of course, being muggle-raised, the boy did not realise it – _yet._

The unknown of the equation was the true capacity for loyalty of one who had never experienced what it was. Abraxas had to rely on Lucius' estimation of the boy's character.

It was not how he was used to act, but then, he had to begin to trust his son and heir somewhere.

He found it funny – and comforting – that Lucius' opinion was confirmed by Severus Snape's loudest thoughts, when he projected that Lucius was old and mature enough to know his own way and that he blamed Abraxas for not seeing it.

Yes, this half-blood Prince had a lot of guts.

_Let's see if he has enough to make a good Malfoy._

§§§

" _Get a grip, young man. It may be the thing to show what you feel at... How do you call_ _that_ _place_ _of yours_ _?_

" _Cokeworth_ _."_

" _Cokeworth_ _... Merlin! Who ever dreamt such a name if not muggles?! Anyway, it won't do in company or people will take you for a mudblood or Heaven forbid! For a Griffyndor!_ _"_

"…"

" _I don't understand your mumbling."_

" _No need to insult me. I'm not about to follow Dumbledore."_

" _Good. Now, you try again. Empty your mind… Master your emotions..."_

§§§

" _I'll have none of your childish pretensions! You'll tone down or you'll find you're not too old for punishment."_

" _Sorry,"_ was the sullen answer.

" _One would think you one of those misbehaved Blacks!"_

" _Sir!"_

" _Unfortunately, unlike them, you don't have the bloodline or the money to back on—which is an unforgivable sin as the world goes."_

§§§

" _I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that. I hope I didn't disgrace you in front of your friend."_

" _I'm not offended,_ _and he wasn't either_ _._ _You're not a dog or a Hufflepuff, Severus. You do not want to show your throat or your belly for people to take advantage of it."_

" _I'm not a stray dog any more? Good to know."_

" _A stray cat… Or a stray snake, maybe… But definitely not a dog."_

It was good to be laughing _with_ Abraxas, instead of being laughed at.

§§§

" _You're beginning to ape Father's worst mannerisms."_

" _I don't ape,_ _Lucius_ _. I learn,"_ was Severus' invariable answer.

More often than not, he added, _"you don't_ _see or_ _hear yourself."_

" _I don't need to. You're there."_

And it would always end in laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adoption was quite common in the higher spheres of the Roman world, to ensure the continuity of the family line, and gave full status and rights to the adopted. I believe the practice would be quite consistent with the wizarding world as it would answer part of the question of how there can be enough 'purebloods' to support Voldemort.
> 
> * L'Auguste Maison de Malfoy = The August House of Malfoy. In France, the Bourbon family, who were Royalty, called themselve August.


	4. Chapter 4

**And I feel something so right by doing the wrong thing**

**And I feel something so wrong by doing the right thing**

(One Republic, Counting Stars)

 

* * *

_September 1977_

Lily sometimes watched Severus from afar with a sad, disappointed look. He did not even seem to remember that she existed and passed her as if she was transparent.

He had what he always wanted.

He really was one of them now.

She had been all over herself for at least a fortnight after she received the letter with her appointment as Head Girl and her badge. She could not wait to tell Sev.

She did not doubt that he would forgive her for going out with James Potter during the last Hogsmeade week-end the same way she had forgiven him for calling her a mudblood – which had been much worse, no?

She bribed Petunia to accompany her to the other end of Spinner's End to his father's house – she was not that foolhardy to try to confront Tobias Snape all by herself if he was drunk – but it stood totally empty. As she had no owl, she could not write him but she was sure he was going to be happy for her, and ready to return to her when she wrung her little finger at him.

But just like last year, nothing turned as she wanted.

As soon as she stepped foot on quay 9 ¾, James descended on her, making a big show of bowing over her mother's hand and of shaking her father's. He had obviously been on the lookout for her, and more than a little happy with himself and his shining new Head Boy badge. Almost immediately, he began to chat her up about all the great things they were going to do together this year.

She could not help glancing around, discreetly she thought, to try to see where Sev was. When the first warning whistle to board the train was given, she had not seen him yet.

She resigned herself to let James carry her trunk in the Marauders' compartment – she did not want to discuss in front of her parents.

Severus Snape appeared at the very last moment, in what was to be his first great display of theatricals.

The crowd of parents parted like the red sea before Moses to let three men pass and reach the wagon where Evan Rosier and Felix Parkinson, the Slytherin Prefects, were enthusiastically waving to let them know they had reserved a place… And to publicize that they were in the know. Nobody recognised Snape at first, because for the first time ever, he wore good quality clothes that fitted him – but every one knew the Malfoys, if only by sight.

The elder man, who was the Patriarch himself, Abraxas, gave an imperative gesture to the train driver. The man nodded eagerly to let him know that he was ready to wait for as long as necessary – he had been paid in advance. No one dared protest, but every one ogled shamelessly as the three men exchanged their good byes.

James was somewhat crestfallen at first that people barely gave a glance at his badge – busy as they were to gossip about Severus Snape – and a little miffed, but it didn't last long.

He was so excited to have Lily by his side that for a solid ten minutes after the train finally left, he could not do anything but grin at her. He did not listen when Sirius ranted about Snivellus thinking he was Merlin's gift, or when Peter and Remus wondered aloud what the Malfoys saw in him.

He cut them short more than once to enquire whether Lily was comfortable enough, warm enough, if she wanted something from the trolley – tea, pastries and more chocolate frogs than she could hope to eat in a month.

Lily stayed with them during the journey, with mixed feelings.

It still felt incredible not to sit by Sev and to be able to say just everything that came to mind, without meeting startled eyes or having the others ask what she meant when she made a muggle joke – except Remus, of course.

When she had gone out with James last year, he had been a surprisingly pleasant date. Alone with her, he was really charming and even a little shy – nothing like the braggart he was in public.

Indeed, he had even proposed to take her to Madam Puddyfoot's if she liked, though she could see he was more than a little uncomfortable with the idea. She generously let him off the hook, and he had been so relieved he offered her a huge assortment at Honeydukes. It had been one of the perks of the week-end. She had briefly thought, still cross with Severus, that James could be a very possible, very palatable future.

And now, even with his friends around, James Potter was acting just like that again, with his shining smile all for herself. She could really get used to being pampered and admired by such a handsome boy – if only he was not such a git most of the time.

She never had the opportunity to approach Severus again. When she tried to give him the signal she wanted to meet him, he just looked the other way.

In the end, she wondered if it was such a bad thing that Sev had forced her to burn her ships. Very much like Aesop's fox, which did not like sour grapes, she told herself she did not pine for what had been for so long – for the friend who knew all about her and loved her for what she was, not for what she looked like.

Sometimes – only sometimes, and only at night, she wondered who she was fooling and if that pang of regret would ever leave her. When she was so melancholy, it felt as if Sev was dead, and her childhood with him.

§§§

Snape had become surprisingly calm and in control during the summer. He did not sneer or boo along with his Slytherin mates as the tedious Gryffindor bias of the Headmaster was proclaimed publicly once more, when he announced the names of the Head Girl and Head Boy.

He merely shrugged. Later, in the common room, he said, " _It's j_ _ust another proof that by the will and grace of the Almighty Dumbledore, even a troublesome, lazy student with nothing else to recommend him but some prowess at Quidditch can make Head Boy_ _–_ _so long as he is a Gryffindor."_

He did not say a word about Evans, and somehow, nobody dared provoke him by questioning her right to be Head Girl. (It might even have been because Lily Evans was really the most obvious choice, despite being a Gryff and a mudblood.)

Just before retiring for the night, he casually remarked that he would have to take extra care this year, because of the idiot who was Head Boy and now had the power to deduct points.

It did not take more for him to find himself with a self-appointed escort at all times.

His outward attitude towards Potter and Co, or even Evans, would not deviate all year: indifference.

There was much more drama in the Gryffindor common room. After yet another missed opportunity to hex Snape, thanks to his bodyguards, a furious, almost sputtering Sirius had the gall to launch in a long diatribe in front of Lily. He speculated in the crudest terms that Snivellus must have whored his way to Malfoy Manor, with Abraxas as well as with Lucius.

It had been so vulgar that she had hexed him, stormed away and made James threaten to never sit beside him until he apologised and refrained to say obscenities in front of her.

Sirius had stalled, sulked and finally decided to make the grand gesture. He offered handsome apologies to Lily, who feigned to believe him.

From then on, Sirius and Peter made a point of being polite, friendly, and generally as pleasant as possible with Lily, who did the same.

Remus did not have to try to begin with. He had always appreciated Lily's charm and cleverness, and all the more since she did not recoil in horror after the incident in the Shrieking Shack. Severus had long told her his theories about Remus, even if she refused to believe him. Right after it happened, Dumbledore had managed to extract an oath of silence from Sev – a clear abuse of authority – but she could add two and two. She sincerely felt sorry for Remus and had assured him of her silence.

§§§

The school grapevine buzzed with speculations about Severus Snape for weeks, and the staff were not the last to gossip, inside as well as out of the school.

After all, whatever happened to the Malfoys always ended in the news, and some rumours were pretty entertaining.

Some whispered that the Malfoys were befriending Snape to spite his family. As nobody knew his family, it opened the way to the wildest speculations. It became a running game to imagine the most incredible dramas and it enlivened many a meal at the teachers' table.

Others said that he _was_ family, from Abraxas' left hand – that they had been estranged after some quarrel or another but that the death of Snape's mother had rekindled the connexion. Minerva, always ready to expose ridiculous arguments, pointed to the disappointing fact that Severus Snape did not have the blond hair specific to the male Malfoys or any of their pointy features. Her colleagues merely laughed, and asked her why she would always be such a spoilt sport.

Some people naturally speculated whether Snape and Lucius were a couple and even if Severus had caught Abraxas' fancy too. The last idea was ridiculous for those who knew him. Abraxas Malfoy was a notorious philanderer but he was also straight as a broomstick. It was a pity. Would not it be juicy news if it was true? Unfortunately, Severus Snape had neither the handsome good looks, the temperament or even the attitudes one would expect from a gigolo.

The only tangible facts were that Snape and Malfoy were frequently seen together during the Hogsmeade week-ends. They had all supposed last year that the rich Malfoy only came to commission potions from Severus Snape, who had discreetly begun to sell contraceptives, recreational drugs and the occasional Lust potion to his house mates – but always, officially, for adult relatives.

In hindsight, the pair spent too much time together for mere business transactions.

Dumbledore confided to Minerva that he had long suspected that Lucius Malfoy had prevailed on Evan Rosier to watch over Severus Snape – hence the greater attention the half-blood got from his house mates last year. The Headmaster had thought that Malfoy meant to assess Snape's suitability for hiring at Malfoy Apothecaries, and it waa the reason why he closed his eyes on the barely legal transactions of Mr Snape.

" _We all did, Albus. He needed the money."_

" _Indeed. It would be a pity if he didn't pursue in the Potions field. I have it on Poppy's authority that his brews are superior to Horace's."_

" _How would she know it?"_

" _Don't you know? Severus Snape is in Horace's pay since last year. You know how time consuming the brewing for the Infirmary is-"_

" _According to Horace."_

" _They found a mutually benefiting arrangement, it seems."_

" _Doesn't it shock you that a Professor would pay a student to do his job?"_

" _Horace assures me_ _it's his way to_ _help_ _an orphan_ _."_ Minerva snorted loudly. Dumbledore chided her gently. _"As you said, he needed the money."_

Whatever the Malfoys' reasons, the status of Severus Snape had been drastically re-evaluated by his fellow students. He was heartily co-opted at last into the group of senior Slytherins who had mostly ignored him before. Slughorn even jovially teased him into joining his Slug's club, saying it was his last chance after snubbing them all the previous years.

Minerva knew that Severus Snape had no reason to like his Head of House and somehow expected him to turn down his sycophantic Head. Courting him so shamelessly, after dismissing him as a nobody for six years, was a little too brown.

She felt strangely disappointed when he didn't send Slughorn packing. She was even more surprised to see him taking part to the club even when most other Slytherins boycotted the meetings, when Slughorn invited too many muggleborn students like her own Lily Evans and Mary McDonald. She supposed it was a kind of social revenge for him, although Horace complained that he was a real cold fish most of the time.

§§§

Lily sometimes thought that she felt Severus gaze, and she even met his burning eyes once at one of the Slug Club's sessions. She could not help hoping that he still regretted her but then she sighed, convinced it was all make believe—and James would not like it anyway.

She never could find an opportunity to ask him how he was doing. He gave her only his blankest look when she tried to signal him, and he never returned to Cokeworth during the holidays.

The Snape house was closed since his father had followed his wife in the grave by not so many months. Boards had been put to the windows overnight but no one had actually seen Severus. He had certainly not attended the funeral – and very few people blamed him for that.

She could not know that his heart bled each time he got even a glimpse of her, but Abraxas Malfoy had taught him well, and there was no way he would go wearing his heart on his sleeve again or do more than glance casually at Potter's girlfriend.

As soon as she had accepted the prat's attention, he had burnt all her letters and little notes, all her dear little tokens. It was the best way, the only way if they wanted to climb in the world, to leave Cokeworth and Spinner's End behind for good.

She had been so clear, so eager about it, it still rankled even if his pride had dictated he had to be the first to propose to cut ties for property's sake and their own peace of mind.

He would be damned if he ever acted again as a pathetic, lovelorn fool. Never, ever again would he humiliate himself as he had done after the "pants" incident.

§§§

Lily convinced James, and a reluctant Sirius who was strangely inclined to miff on her behalf, that she really did not mind that Severus gave her the cut direct when they met. She insisted that they had better emulate her former friend's indifference for their common peace of mind.

Peter and Remus offered no opinion about it, though Peter often had a thoughtful, speculative look on his face when his eyes followed Snape.

Remus was just plainly relieved that he did not have any more to prevent – _try_ to prevent – James and Sirius to cause too much damage to Snape, and it helped him grow into a proper Prefect's authority at last.

James obediently complied to Lily's request, at first because it was much better to flirt and kiss than going Snape hunting, and then because it was becoming dangerous now that Snivellus really belonged to the Slytherin gang.

The Marauders had been forced to admit, with no little resentment, that the Malfoys had impressed on all their relations and _Clientes_ that Snape was one of them, and that he was to be treated accordingly. Peter had a very chastising discussion over the Holidays with his mother about _"what is it that I hear about you and your friends harassing one of your fellow students, and a protégé of the Malfoys above all else?"_ and how disappointed she was _"that any child of mine could disgrace us so thoroughly."_

Even James' father went so far as to send an unusually stern warning to his son, with instructions to relay it to Sirius, that he did not want to hear _ever again_ _–_ four times underscored – that they were acting like crass idiots towards _"one of Malfoy's"._

§§§

The announcement of the betrothal of Lucius Malfoy to Narcissa Black mystified more than one gossip, and Severus Snape found himself under even greater scrutiny from students and teachers alike.

Was it a smoke screen and the necessary marriage of convenience to produce an heir in spite of Lucius' true tastes, or the love match most girls were in raptures about, considering Lucius' persistent pursuing of Narcissa since she was a mere sixth year?

Whatever, the Slytherins had taken their cue from the Malfoys, and Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff deemed prudent to stay as neutral as possible.

Indeed, the very last try of Sirius at having a go at the "dirty wanker" had degenerated into a series of alarmingly violent confrontations as the Slytherins now rallied around Snape. In the end, the Headmaster had to put his foot down and lavish almost impartially punishments and detentions. Neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin retained any hope for the House Cup this year.

The Gryffindors soberly admitted that the real fight was before them, in the coming months and years. The ever growing influence of Voldemort meant that there would be real, deadly business soon enough after graduation and for more than old school grudges.

Dumbledore was vocalizing his concern all over the Wizengamot. Rather late, just like with Grindelwald, some reasoned grimly and with no little rancour.

His Gryffindors were too young to remember the previous war, but they realised that the old warlord needed as many of them as possible to get NEWTs good enough to enter influential positions in the Ministry, in the Aurory... or in his own, exclusive teams of fighters.

After all, there were not many ways to get rid of one's enemies. That it meant chaos and all-out civil war was now unavoidable, with the growing violence spread by the sfollowers of Voldemort. The muggleborns were cornered into defending their meagre status in the Wizarding world, while the moderates still sat back and watched.

Soon enough, every one would have to choose their side.

Abraxas Malfoy was one who refused to take sides. He abhorred Dumbledore. He despised his coterie of blood traitors and politically correct utopists, and the way the old wizard raised his own private army (just like Voldemort) while denying anything other than having _"like-minded friends, ready to defend freedom and the Light."_

Still, what Malfoy heard of the so-called Lord Voldemort's delusions of grandeur and theatrically planned terror attacks made his blood boil. He tried to impress on Lucius and Severus that no self-respecting wizard should take a Dark Mark without knowing to what exactly they were binding themselves to, and that attacking people while hidden behind gloomy robes and masks was the trade of thugs, not a political statement.

The two young men wavered. It seemed silly to stand back when they shared the same vision of a revival of Camelot within wand's reach than their friends, but Abraxas had a point when he noted that nobody had ever turned from Voldemort… or at least lived to tell the tale.

Between the Holy Days and spring, there were furious exchanges of letters, arguments and counter-arguments, invitations to political dinners and meetings for Lucius. There were exclusive parties in Hogsmeade for Severus along with the other elder students that led to heated discussions late in the night in the Slytherin common room and even in the dorms.

The fascination for Lord Voldemort was the ultimate fandom of senior Slytherins. Even a mere fifth year like Regulus Black wanted to hang with the Seventh years, the fanatical gleam in his eye when he spoke of the Dark Lord echoing that of the others.

Another reason for Sirius Black to hate Severus Snape: Snivellus now dared to carry himself just as arrogantly as his betters, as if he didn't fear anything any more—as if the world belonged to him. It was safe to assume his was the bad, dark influence waylaying his pathetic little brother, who did not even dare look at him now that he was disowned.

To let him know he could not simply ignore his elder, Sirius had made a habit of coming behind Regulus and yell _"_ _Boo_ _!"_ to make him jump. Not a few hexes were exchanged between the brothers.

That an elder brother always insulting of everything Slytherin, heinous and just as fanatical in his own way as the other Blacks could hardly be a magnet of brotherly love never entered Sirius' head. Money was a very good reason too, but so sordid they both pretended to be above _that_ , though Regulus was now the prospective heir and quite enjoying it. He just deemed it prudent and healthier not to rub it in Sirius' face for all his elder pretended not to care, and that it was just fine to see the entire family fortune pass to Regulus.

Thankfully for the last remains of family ties, their detentions for _"inappropriate, violent behaviour"_ enabled them to at least bond over shared resentment while copying lines of _"I must not hex my comrades, even if they happen to be family"_ or _"calling my brother names is rude and unworthy of a Hogwarts' student."_

It certainly did not curb Sirius' resentment that Snivellus was obviously up while he had himself gone down.

And he had to watch while Regulus, the little git, almost wept in frustration that he was born end of year and would have to wait months before being able to make his parents proud by selling himself to Voldemort... The idiot! He didn't see that they loved him only so long he was obedient... So what did it say about their love?

It hurt all the more that not only Snivellus but all the senior Slytherins had rather better career prospects than their fellow students, cajoled as they were by society and the obviously winning tide that carried the Dark Lord. The scions of actual Death Eaters had their choices already made for them but if any were reluctant, they certainly didn't show it and boasted just like their parents.

Severus was under enormous peer pressure at school, just like Lucius in his professional circle – but in the end, it was impossible to imagine disappointing the Paterfamilias.

Severus' adoption was scheduled for Lugnasad, the harvest festival. Abraxas had first considered Beltaine, for the symbolism of Light, but Severus would be preparing his NEWTs. It was much better to celebrate the fruitful completion of his studies and the family expansion in August.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many ideas for this chapter and this story were inspired by two watercolours of the incredibly talented Cabepfir on DeviantArt: Seven year 1978 and DH: No More Friends. (She also wrote one of my favourite SS/HG story: A summer in York – one of very few stories that feels like real life!)


	5. Chapter 5

**The show must go on**

**The show must go on, yeah**

**Inside my heart is breaking**

**My make-up may be flaking**

**But my smile still stays on**

(Queen, The show must go on)

 

* * *

_S_ _pring 1978_

There was another turning upside down for Severus Snape a few days before the Easter break, when a frantic Lucius begged Dumbledore to let Severus Floo to Malfoy Manor at once.

Abraxas had caught Dragon Pox—nobody could say where, when or how. There were regular outbursts of the illness in nurseries, like right at the moment at the Rosiers but the Malfoy patriarch had no occasion to come in contact with young children.

The Healers offered no hope considering his age, and he never regained consciousness.

Lucius was as distraught as a Malfoy can be.

Severus himself had a very hard time supporting his friend. He had been Abraxas' protégé for nine months, and his prospective son for less than two. He had ridden Severus hard to rid him of what he called his _intolerable muggleness…_ But he had been the first authority figure who respected him and he would never forget it. In his heart and mind, Abraxas was, and always would be, his real father – even if the official bond was now to be denied him forever. He did not realise right now all the consequences, but they were bad.

The new Head of the _Auguste Maison de Malfoy_ was twenty-three—not a very impressive age for a Patriarch. Lucius might have been preparing practically from birth for the responsibility, even he did not know yet the full extent of the Malfoy interests. He had expected to have decades to learn from his father how to be a powerful _Patron_ and Head of family, with sons of his own to help.

Now, he was brutally finding himself with _Clientes_ and subcontractors all over Europe who looked him up and down with alarm and suspicion— knowing full well they would not hesitate to change allegiance if he showed any weakness.

He was furious when Severus owled him that Slug and Jiggers, who had promised to Abraxas to Apprentice him, had just written that " _to our utmost regret, the position is no longer available."_

Then came the news from the estates in France, Switzerland, Benelux, and Italy.

The Goblins were less than friendly when Lucius asked for massive transfers to his continental accounts as credit from long term contractors had inexplicably been withdrawn. Gringotts had only just received the granting of probate that named Lucius and Madam Alexia Yaxley, the family lawyer, as executors.

Lucius was told with even less roundabout than usual that, until the inheritance taxes were paid, there was no way Gringotts would assist in what the Ministry would be entitled to re-characterise as tax evasion by sending money abroad. The risks and penalties were much too high.

Lucius was thankful at the end of each harassing day to be offered comfort by the Lestranges. Narcissa was completing her studies in Italy. After the funeral, he had assured her that there was no point in her staying at her parents' with nothing to do, since he would be much too busy to spend time with her. She only agreed when Bellatrix insisted that he must not stay alone at such a time, and that he was to come and dine with them every evening. He was family now that he was betrothed to Cissy, and what was family for, if not to offer help and comfort in the time of need?

One evening, Rabastan put his foot in his mouth and wondered within Lucius' earshot if they could not ask _Him_ to help Cousin Lucius. Bellatrix snapped at him, telling him that it is dangerous to let your tongue run, while Rodolphus hushed him and awkwardly changed the subject as soon as he caught sight of his host—but Lucius narrowed his eyes. He cornered Rabastan and demanded to be explain what he had meant, and who was Him?

With all the appearance of reluctance and much convoluted phrases, Rabastan admitted that it was not Rodolphus who had helped him restore his finances and standing after he lost his inheritance with bad investments, but the _Brotherhood,_ because they stood to each other no matter what.

Lucius was very thoughtful when he left.

A visit to the Ministry's Income and Tax Department to try to hasten the proceedings proved an administrative nightmare. By a curious coincidence, Madam Yaxley was away for an extended tour of all the secret places of China -or maybe Patagonia, for all Lucius cared- as a surprise birthday gift from her late husband's family. And of course, she could not be reached. Her assistants were competent to deal with the tax officials by the text, but they had not her knack to negotiate practical solutions… Or to know the right person to bribe.

Due dates were closing in, but all the cash holdings were still frozen until the inheritances taxes were paid… And Lucius could not pay them, since his estates and assets were so vast, and with so many international cross holdings, that the Ministry still had an estimated two months to just finish the inventory. So, if he could not pay his business partners and the revenue taxes in time, the assets he had not even taken possession of yet were liable to be seized.

His head still reeling after a day dealing with apologetic but inflexible taxmen, Lucius just let himself drop in a seat with a full glass of Firewhiskey – trying very hard not to deem himself a failure.

He looked up at his mother's portrait – a plain, unspeaking representation. A lovely one, though, as she sat reading, writing letters, arranging flowers in a vase. It had been painted as an anniversary gift, at a time when his father already said that, as much as he liked to look at her, he would rather not listen to her whining.

Lucius did not remember his mother very well. She died in childbirth, and his little brother too, during his first year at Hogwarts but he had never been close to her anyway. She breakfasted with him and dutifully came to kiss him goodnight, but at other times, she quickly dismissed him and sent him to his father, or one or other of his instructors. He wore her out, she always said, and she had too much to do to have him cling to her robes. When she was vexed, she generally added that he was just as selfish and annoying as his father.

His gaze travelled to the other side of the study, to rest on his father's portrait – but Abraxas was still frozen in the same posture. It could take up to three months for the portrait to awaken.

He closed his eyes, hard, to stop the sudden rush of tears. He missed his father. How he missed him! In an unusual bout of depression and self-doubt, he wondered if the Manor would still be his in three months. He could not imagine facing Abraxas' portrait and have to admit that he had ruined the family.

He did not know how long he has stayed there, staring into space, when he heard the Floo. It was already getting dark and he never noticed. It was Bellatrix, anxious to find out why he did not come to dine as agreed.

As he began to apologize, vaguely speaking of _"unexpected business matters"_ , she eyed him up and down, and pursed her lips in disapproval.

" _You can't carry on like that. Enough is enough. I warn you, I'm sending Rod to you. He will know what to do."_

Moments later, Rodolphus Lestrange was coming through. He swore against the _"damn_ _ed_ _pen pushers!"_ while drinking the better part of one of Abraxas' Port bottle. He also went through the Goblin and Ministry inventories – occasionally whistling under his breath as he discovered the extend and complexity of the Malfoy fortune. He offered to pull a few strings.

Lucius barely hesitated. He had no wish to be indebted to his future brother-in-law and was already making notes to change financial set-ups that he did not care him to know about, but he had no choice right now.

All of a sudden, people rushed back to offer their support or to confirm their business interest or their loyalty. Tangled cases and legacy files unravelled in record time. The Ministry accepted to free the liquid assets covered by tax credits, and a good many pieces of the great puzzle that was Malfoy Industries fell into place again, enough to let the machine run.

Rodolphus patted him on the back, congratulating himself on the outcome. Bellatrix incited him to prudence, while the ever sympathetic Rabastan once again whispered, this time to say that the _Brotherhood'_ s help came with a price – that they would expect him to show some gratitude.

Shrugging, Lucius admitted that he had already been very much convinced before his father's death and that he would be honoured of course... If only he could make his own opinion about the _leadership_ of the _Brotherhood_.

An ecstatic Bellatrix very soon called to tell him there would be some change for their next dinner. It would still be a simple, intimate affair, but there would be a very special guest. She waxed enthousiastically, " _He is so marvellous and interesting... A genius, Lucius. A true genius. Such political insight! Such charisma! And powerful beyond your dreams. Oh! You'll see for yourself..."_

§§§

Severus was still grieving the loss of Abraxas. He regretted Abraxas himself, of course, but also the grandiose future that had been within his reach for a few months.

Lily once managed to stop him in a corridor, to offer condolences. He gave her a weak smile and shook his head, pointing his chin at Potter who was already glowering.

He had never been more grateful for learning Occlumency.

The speculations, insinuations and gossip at the beginning of the school year had been nothing to what he had to endure right now.

There had been rumours about the adoption. Such an event could not be kept secret for long, even if the formal announcement was not supposed to be made before Severus' graduation.

The elder Malfoy's sudden demise had people wonder at the timing. Many set it at the feet of a supposedly jealous Lucius, who did not want to share his inheritance.

One very convoluted scenario even had Severus and Lucius offing Abraxas together, because the old man's willingness to promote Lucius' marriage and to adopt Severus was only a desperate attempt at separating the two lovers – incest, even between adopted siblings, being a crime.

Severus had to endure sympathy – false or real, pity, spite, and more than his fair share of prying and suspicion every time Lucius' owl entered the Great Hall.

He did not worry too much for the future. If the worst came to the worst, he would still be able to make his Apprenticeship with the misanthropic Master Potioneer of Malfoy Apothecaries, who holed himself in the most deserted part of the deserted Larzac in France... Or in Rome, under the constant, paranoid monitoring of Abraxas' third cousin, Master Borgia.

Or he would have to take his chance with the Death Eaters.

He did not like that last option, out of respect for Abraxas.

But Abraxas was not there any more and he was under even greater peer pressure than before to join. If he wanted to stay in Britain, it might be his best option.

§§§

It was but a few days after the famous dinner at the Lestrange with the _"_ _very special_ _guest"_ that Severus received another missive from Lucius.

It informed him that " _it is done, and a good thing too"_ and also that he could _"expect good news for yourself_ _soon_ _"._

Lucius concluded that, _"of course, the rewards of the new world will not be for the faint-hearted but He is all we hoped He would be._ _W_ _e can look forward to the day a new Arthur will present another round table to his deserving knights and restore the pride and might of_ _Wizarding_ _Britain."_

§§§

As much as people had thought that Severus Snape was close to Lily Evans in the past, he was now even closer to Lucius Malfoy.

Any closer and he could as well take the place of Narcissa Black, many sneered—but only behind his back.

There was not a day now without an exchange of owls between the two friends, and Minerva herself had seen Mr Snape more than once in Dumbledore's office, coming to or going from using the Headmaster's Floo for some kind of urgent conference with Lucius Malfoy - the excuse being the complexity of the succession. Severus Snape would never be Severus Snape Malfoy, but he was still provided for, it seemed.

In fact, his manners and circumstances had changed so dramatically during this final year that he insolently told Professor Slughorn that he would not need any recommendation of his. He informed him that he had already signed and paid for an Apprenticeship with a major Potions Brewer whose name made Horace whistle softly.

Dumbledore frowned at the name when he was told and informed them sternly that not only was the man a notorious sympathizer of pureblood supremacy but there were solid proofs that he supported Voldemort. Horace was rather crestfallen and stopped speaking of Snape.

It confirmed much too well that all the male Slytherin students of the 1978 class were Death Eater material and ready to take the plunge. It was even rumoured that a few females had been sworn in by Voldemort, despite the dark wizard's reputation for despising women.

Minerva had hardly believed that they would favour and welcome a mere half-blood, until Dumbledore shocked her with the revelation that Voldemort was a half-blood himself, even if he hid it carefully from his followers – who would not believe it anyway. And the worst was that Severus Snape was frighteningly similar to the young Tom Riddle he had taught forty years ago.

She gasped, _"_ _D_ _o you mean to say_ _Severus Snape is_ _another potential Dark Lord?"_

" _If he ever survives the bigger fish that Riddle is right now, I'm very much afraid so. I perfectly understand why Tom wants him as one of his followers. He will control him for his own ends. I expect we'll hear much too soon of Mr Snape in the Inner Circle."_

§§§

Summer is a season of marriages.

Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape attended no less than six in July, and then another four in August.

They never appeared in the guest list of one marriage. Lily Evans and James Potter bonded in a beautiful, quite intimate ceremony in Godric's Hollow.

The only event that marred the day for the lovebirds was the row between Lily and Petunia when the latter refused quite vocally to be matron of honour… Which was promptly followed by another row between James and Vernon Dursley.

Lily had hoped until the very last minute that her sister would relent. She asked why Tuney and Vernon even bothered to come, if they only meant to hide in a corner and refused to speak with her new family and her friends.

Petunia get up on her high horse at once and retaliated that she would never have decided to attend if she had known they would be asked rude and nosy questions about their life, and treated like aliens or disabled people by a bunch of freaks.

The ceremony was fortunately conducted without further incident but when Lily looked around for her sister and brother in law at the wedding breakfast, Sirius explained that they decided to leave early, and that it was no great loss since they were such bores.

Lily instantly suspected something was amiss because of Black's too smug smile, but she did not have any time or indeed any wish on her wedding day to enquire further.

A pity though, because the humiliating pranks played on them gave Vernon and Petunia a definitive disgust of every one and every thing magical.

It extended, of course, to the time bomb that would be abandoned three years later on their doorstep, and forced on them without warning, explanation or compensation – Harry Potter.

By the time Lily tried to contact her sister, she was very clear that she did not want to have anything to do any more with Lily, her freak husband, and their freak, sadistic friends.

§§§

In a matter of months, Severus Snape, once the ugly duckling of Slytherin, suddenly seemed to be all over the Daily Prophet, just like Lucius Malfoy.

The pair appeared in the gossip columns, with permanent speculations about the true nature of their relationship.

They flaunted their friendship a little too openly for the conservative wizarding world, both seeming to delight in understated provocation: touching shoulders, or standing much too close for real property – but nothing too obvious. Still, as one dowager once remarked with open disapproval, they shared mannerisms like old couples do. People glossed over it, and wondered whether Lucius would impose to his bride the constant presence of Severus Snape at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa did not give anything away. She was perfectly at ease with Severus Snape, and they always spoke and acted like close friends in public.

There was not only idle gossip about Malfoy and Snape. More often than not, they were hailed as brilliant young men on the fast track to success in the scientific, economical or political pages.

Order reports were positive that Lucius Malfoy had to be a Death Eater. There was no certainty about Severus Snape though. He was working for his Mastery with a dedication rarely seen, and expected to complete it in record time.

Some Order members speculated that it was unlikely that Voldemort would deign to bestow his Dark Mark on a half-blood, how talented and useful he could be, or he would face opposition from his Inner Circle. Others countered that the unusual favour Snape enjoyed amongst purebloods could not have any other cause: the man was insufferable, and he had nothing to recommend himself apart from Malfoy's protection.

That kind of comment mostly came from the younger members of the Order, the ex-Marauders or the Longbottoms, or from Alastor Moody.

Sirius Black was positive it had to be Snape that they had faced during one very bloody encounter in March, but a lot of older members were quite fed up with his rantings about the Potioneer and did not take the young Auror seriously. Neither him nor James had any proof beyond their gut feeling, and James did not dare tell too much about it with Lily watching and shaking her head.

Minerva did not take sides. She took her cue from Dumbledore who simply listened to the inconclusive arguments flying back and forth with serenity.

The only certainty was that, whether they were Death Eaters or not, neither Malfoy nor Snape took part in the odious muggle baiting and other infamous raids the junior followers of Voldemort were famous for... Or the Order would have heard of it.

Minerva felt oddly relieved. Severus Snape's doings were none of her business but she could not have ignored him if she wanted, so resentful were the Marauders about his undeserved elevation in the world and his total depravity.

They ranted at nearly every meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, brandishing the latest paper featuring him: Snape being hailed as the most promising Potioneer of the century after his early Mastery thesis on the Skele-Gro, a Malfoy Industries patent that he had drastically improved; his partnership with Durmstrand to sponsor a post-graduate research program; his attendance at exclusive, mundane events like the Parkinson Charity Ball or St Mungo's annual Found Raiser; his presence at political events at the Ministry in Malfoy's wake, shaking hands with top officials...

Snape seemed to be everywhere – just to annoy his four former Nemesis, if you listened to them.

Minerva was quite disturbed by the deep spitefulness it revealed in Black and Potter. She did not like the obvious jealousy of the unremarkable Peter Pettigrew, and she was saddened by the growing bitterness of Remus Lupin, who was unable to find a gainful position while all his friends, as well as his enemies, were settling in.

She preferred to spend more and more time with the pregnant women at Order meetings. There was a little baby boom in the Order, with the newly-weds like Alice Longbottom and Lily Potter expecting at the very same time, and even Molly carried proudly a sixth pregnancy. She was so happy for Molly and Arthur, after all the bad times and the heartache.

§§§

Lucius had to take Severus Side-Along. He Apparated them from the Revel straight into Severus' bedroom. He threw out of the way their heavy Death Eater robes that he had just flung on his shoulders for convenience.

Severus was deathly pale and clearly fighting hyperventilation when he collapsed on his bed.

Lucius slapped him, hard. Twice. The younger wizard refocused at last. He hurriedly bounced out of the bed to the washroom and began to retch helplessly.

Lucius focussed on his concern for Severus, because he did not want to think about his own feelings.

What do you do when you have just betrayed all you ever believed in, and your dreams of a better world?

What do you do when your best friend… your little brother... is whimpering in your arms that he is not his father and that he wants to die?

Lucius felt cheated, and not for the first time since he had taken that thrice-damned Mark. Twenty-three years of sheltered life cannot prepare you for such a swift descent into abjection.

Severus grabbed his wrist, forcing Lucius to look him in the eye. _"Obliviate me. Please."_

Lucius instinctively recoiled but Severus did not let go. _"I can't. I... You have to Obliviate me,"_ he begged _._

Lucius pursed his lips. _"_ _What good will it do the next time we have to go to a Ravel?"_ After a heavy pause, he added, _"And who will Obliviate_ me _, if you don't remember anything?"_

§§§

They stared at each other for a long time, both weighing their options.

" _It_ _sh_ _ou_ _ld work_ _,"_ said Lucius at last.

" _We don't have much choice,"_ confirmed Severus.

Lucius put his wand to Severus' temple while Severus did the same in one supple move.

" _On the count of three, Obliviate?"_

Severus nodded _._

One... Two... Three...

§§§

Lucius and Severus looked at each other, their wands in their right hands, and each clutching a paper in the left.

" _What the hell-"_ began Lucius.

" _What's that?!"_ cried Severus. He looked at the paper in his hand.

It was his own handwriting and it carried both his secret magical seal and his secret signature.

Mystified, he read it several times: _Carry out Lucius' plan or you will end up worse than Tobias. Lucius and you_ _O_ _bliviated each other._ _You do not want to remember._

Lucius was still busy reading his own message, which was much lengthier but he did not seem to relish what he read.

" _I seem to be ordering myself to follow you plan,"_ said an impatient Snape. _"What is it all about?"_

Blanked-face, Lucius handed him his own paper.

Severus' eyes widened several times. When he was through, he looked at Lucius.

" _I can't have agreed to do that. You can't have made_ that _plan. There must be something wrong."_

" _Well, something really wrong obviously happened at the Revel last night... and we've chosen to forget it."_ He did not add that it must have been pretty scary for them to want to forget, but Severus' frown proved he was thinking the same.

" _Either that… Or we've both been Imperioed and Obliviated and left to think we did it ourselves."_

" _No. This bears my secret seal, not the official."_

" _Mine too,"_ sighed Severus. _And nobody knows of the Half Blood Prince. If I'd been Imperioed into writing and signing, I'd have signed Severus Snape._

They looked at each other in concern.

_What had they done last night?_

Severus had sworn many times to himself that he would rather die than become a man like his father. And he remembered too well what his father did – even if his last vision of Tobias Snape had been his weeping disgustingly and putting snot all over the kitchen table after the funeral, calling out for his Eileen to come back.

Still unconvinced, he asked, _"what about Narcissa?"_

" _She trusts me."_

He snorted. _"I'm not so sure she'll appreciate even more gossip. I'm sure I won't."_

" _I thought that kind of childishness was behind you,"_ chided Lucius, with suddenly narrowed eyes. _"_ _We're Brothers after all."_

Very deliberately, he brushed Severus' cheek but the young man recoiled.

" _Damn, Severus! You agreed. It's too late to get cold feet now._ _Nobody asks you to be attracted! I'm certainly not, but we have to be convincing._ _"_

Usually, the resentful look he received would just have prompted Lucius to laugh or smirk until Severus would roll his eyes and abandon his histrionics, but this was no laughing matter.

" _We must have been pretty desperate to concoct such a harebrained scheme, no?"_

Severus nodded reluctantly.

" _And we went to some length to ensure it worked."_ Lucius exhaled deeply. _"S_ _o, as my esteemed father would say,_ _let's make the most of it."_ He put a reassuring hand on Severus' shoulder and squeezed. _"_ _You'll see..._ _W_ _e'll have the last laugh."_

Severus looked involuntary at his left forearm. What last laugh?… But he did not feel nearly as desperate as he had obviously been when he wrote that note to himself.

He shrugged. _L_ _et us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die._

He was twenty, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find on deviantArt an amazing black and white illustration of Snape and Lucius Malfoy as young adults. It's implied slash – which you won't find for real in my stories, but I liked the idea of the ambiguity of their relationship. It's called gloaming by MARiKaArt, and it's totally how I envision them in those days.
> 
> I continue to blend Roman and medieval traditions. Roman Patrons were powerful leaders and/or family heads whose might was officialy measured not only by wealth but also by the number of Clientes who owed them favours and granted them their public support. It also seemed consistent to me to treat apprenticeship in the ancient way, when the family paid a "premium" for the Master to accept the apprentice, who was indentured to him for a number of years, up to five or six. Of course, the rich apprentices could negociate the time they left.


	6. Chapter 6

**Exit: light**

**Enter: night**

**Take my hand, we're off to never-never land**

_(Metallica, Enter Sandman)_

* * *

At the next meeting, Lucius and Severus stomped in together.

When business was over, my Lord left swiftly with Bellatrix and Rodolphus, as usual. The mood turned more social at once but most did not linger. They were not supposed to know each other, but the members of the inner circle were a close-knit group, often related to each other and they had all received an invitation to a cocktail at Rabastan's. It was not even exceptional. It was the sole opportunity for the spouses to show their support, and Rab's young wife was eager to show she was a good hostess.

Lucius and Severus never left each other's side, and glared at everyone who approached or tried to risk a joke. Not surprisingly, nobody dared call them the Malfoy Twins tonight, except the young Mrs Lestrange.

Lucius bent towards Severus' ear, in a very suggestive manner. _"Narcissa wrote me about..."_ His voice turned to mere whisper, _"a Muggle."_

Severus very nearly escaped choking on his wine. _"_ _N_ _arcissa_ _?!"_

" _Nothing like what you seem to believe,"_ joked Lucius. _"Don't be crude, Northern boy."_

Lucius took his time to choose among the snacks.

" _Actually, he's a very dead muggle. Has been so for nearly two centuries."_

He pouted slightly after taking a bite from a foie gras canapé. It was nothing near what he was used to. He made a note to send some to his hostess and shook his head at Severus to discourage him to try one. He pointed him instead to plates of salted puff pastries and verrines of vegetable mousse.

" _He was a poet, writing about tragic, brooding, dark heroes,"_ he pursued. _"And acting the part in real life. Ah! I see you're interested."_

He raised an appreciative eyebrow as he bit in a chocolate truffle and did not stop before he finished it with a groan of pleasure. He then put one in Severus' mouth in a very intimate gesture.

 _"Take it whole… You'll like it,"_ he said quite loud.

They heard a startled gulp behind them.

Severus managed not to laugh and licked Lucius' fingers before letting go.

They took a few steps away from the crowd and Severus discreetly cast Muffliato for good measure.

" _She actually sent a book,"_ Lucius went on. _"She suggests it could be useful. They called him mad, bad and dangerous to know."_

 _Byron_ , thought Severus idly. He repeated slowly, _"Mad... Bad... And dangerous to know."_

They smirked together and exchanged knowing smiles. They heard the unmistakable sound of a camera and saw that Henrietta Lestrange, as usual, could not help making souvenir photos. She was incorrigible, and there would be hell to pay when she showed it to Bellatrix - this being the precise reason why she would do it.

Fellow Death Eaters were sending curious looks towards them.

Defiantly, Lucius raised his glass to Severus' lips. Severus entwined his arm around Lucius' and brought his own glass to Lucius' lips. They drank each other's offering and, never looking around, Apparated away.

§§§

When the Potters and the Longbottoms had to go underground because of a mysterious informer of Dumbledore's, it did not help the young males' temper.

They often quarreled. It was quite sad and disturbing to see close friends like Remus Lupin and Sirius Black at each other's throats more often than not. One minute, Sirius seemed to be out for Remus' blood, the other he was full of remorse and apologised - but Remus needed more and more time to forgive.

Real life and worry about the war were taking their toll on them.

Remus began to visit less and less, and Sirius brooded on the reasons for his absence.

Peter, always the most discreet, was even more silent than before. He seemed to do nothing more than listen these days, only occasionally asking a few questions.

James was frantic with worry, now that there was no hope Lily could go to St Mungo for the birth. A healer and midwife at home were just not the same if there were complications.

He made such a nuisance of himself, unused as he was to enforced inactivity, that Lily had him redecorate the entire house – the muggle way. Next, she meant to tell him they needed a vegetable garden to offer healthy, fresh food to the baby. It was true, after all.

It kept him out of her way, while she read and researched. She spent most of her days in the study, with stacks of books Dumbledore sent her from Hogwarts' library, on her request. Or experimenting Charms. When James asked what had her so busy, what could be of such interest at a time like this, she invariably answered, _"blood magic"._

Every member of the Inner Circle was waiting with almost batted breath for the next decision of the Dark Lord concerning the Prophecy. He had them running in all directions to find the Potters and the Longbottoms.

Severus was strangely silent these days, almost haunted.

Lucius had spent half the night up because Narcissa had a false labour alert, but the midwife assured him she had at least ten days before the real thing. He was frightened for his wife, and more than a little frustrated that she hadn't been in the right mood for three weeks. He looked Severus over. He wasn't eating, despite the table being laden with breakfast dishes. Over-tired, exasperated, he snaped, _"What's wrong now?"_

Severus temper flared just as instantly. He lifted his left wrist and grumbled with disgust, _"_ _W_ _hat's not wrong?"_

Lucius told him in no uncertain term to shut up and go get laid.

Severus left in a huff.

§§§

Severus Flooed home earlier than usual. Lucius was not there. He had been detained by a meeting at the Ministry, Narcissa explained.

Typical! _"I've no time to explain,"_ he told her, _"Just tell_ _him_ _that he'll_ _have reasons to be jealous_ _tonight_ _."_

_"What kind of jealous?"_

He smirked, _"Tell him to envision you with that idiot, what's his name? Ronaldo Magicoloso?"_

" _Versicoloroso, Severus, and he's not an idiot-"_

" _If you say so."_

" _I certainly will not speak of that poor Ronaldo to Lucius. He's the best designer I've met in years, I don't want him to die before he presents his next collection."_

Severus only snorted.

" _But Luce will be as jealous as he can, I promise."_

A few hours later, Severus was one of the last to show up after the Summon. He immediately went to bow before the Dark Lord in the posture of those who requested audience.

He had been given the Potions teaching position at Hogwarts, and would take it in late August if my Lord still approved.

My Lord approved heartily, brushing Snape's apologies aside that it was not the DADA position, as he had been instructed. He had raised Severus to the Inner Circle for his skill at gathering sensitive information, after all, and so that he could get it immediately. To have him at the side of his arch-enemy at all times was quite an achievement.

In truth, he was a little put out that Slughorn had managed to slip away on the Continent, but on the whole, he did not care. Slughorn was a coward, and he would never be foolish enough to tell Dumbledore what Dark, Dark things he had taught young Tom Riddle. He probably did not imagine Tom had actually tried and used that knowledge.

" _Dumbledore also promised to make me Head of Slytherin before the end of the school year. The only other Slytherin on staff is Aurora Sinistra, and she doesn't want the chore, she says."_

It was no mean feat to become one of the youngest teachers ever at Hogwarts, and a Head of House in the bargain. There was a little round of applause when Voldemort himself slowly clapped his hands three times in appreciation of Snape's achievement.

Strangely, Severus did not look as elated as would have been expected.

Lucius asked, a little too casually, how he had managed it all.

_ʺI gave the Headmaster what he asked for, and got the position.ʺ_

Of course, intensive and extensive information gathering had been done about Dumbledore's intimate tastes over time, in the hope of exploiting a weakness.

The members of the Inner Circle all knew which side he had run in his young days, even if nobody had heard anything about a private life since he began to teach at Hogwarts. So, everybody instantly wondered in the dirty part of their mind... And observed to see how Lucius took the news – because it was obvious they were as much news to him than to all of them.

Not well, if his clenched fists were any sign.

 _ʺTrouble in paradise, Lucius?"_ hissed Crabbe in his ear.

Lucius remained silent. As soon as the meeting ended, he made his excuses to the Dark Lord. Just before Disapparating, he Hexed Severus.

A nicely delivered Binding Hex that had him fall straight on the face. Hard.

The new Potions master sneered, rubbing his sore nose. He bowed hastily to Voldemort, and Disapparated too.

" _Lovers' quarrel,"_ said the Dark Lord with indulgence. Every body laughed, even if Bellatrix' mirth was quite forced.

§§§

There were pandemonium scenes at the Order's headquarters when it transpired in late spring 1981 that Dumbledore had hired Snape as Potions master for the next year.

The old fraud stayed totally calm throughout the protests and said nothing except that Severus Snape was a genius in his field. He had been very lucky to secure him for Hogwarts, now that Horace Slughorn had decided he needed to travel abroad for his health.

He even turned against Sirius Black when the young Auror suggested that if Snape lacked the balls to take the Dark Mark himself – not like his own idiot of a brother – he was certainly in the Death Eaters' pay.

Indeed, it had been quite surprising to see and hear the Headmaster chastise his old favourites for not outgrowing their childish prejudices. He straightened to his full height and said in a glacial tone, his eyes never leaving Black, _"I hope I'll never see an_ _Order member w_ _riting_ _somebody down as a Death Eater on the sole basis of their own dislikes."_ He looked around then, and added, " _I won't tolerate any kind of insult against a_ _Hogwarts' teacher."_

It put quite a damp on the ex-Marauders' tantrums, and on most other members as well, if truth be told.

Peter Pettigrew sat open-mouthed for nearly half an hour, Minerva noted with amusement.

Albus' steel was seldom seen but all the more frightening. It made people suddenly remember he had been a warlord for longer than most of them had been alive.

When they were back at the school, Dumbledore took Minerva, Pomona and Filius apart. He asked them to help the young man to adjust to his new duties, confiding that as soon as he had found his feet, Professor Snape would also head Slytherin House.

The Headmaster hoped it would be sooner rather than later since it could only be a transitory measure to ask an eccentric, reluctant night-owl like Aurora Sinistra to act as Head of House.

The three Heads shared raised eyebrows and no little misgivings about having a colleague so young, but Dumbledore had set his mind on having Severus Snape at Hogwarts. There was nothing to do but make the best of it.

Later, Minerva expressed her concern about Snape's association with notorious Death Eaters.

Albus smiled sadly. _"Unfortunately, the elder Slytherins don't need any teacher's encouragement to admire Voldemort. They get enough of it at home."_

§§§

The first weeks of term were particularly hard on Severus Snape – and on the students.

Snape looked the part, sure enough, even with a little overkill. Minerva learnt months later that it was Abraxas Malfoy's portrait who had encouraged him to order pitch black teaching robes and frock cloaks modelled after those of Maximus Malfoy. The wizard had been Potions master's and Head of Slytherin himself during the better part of the Eighteenth century – until he found himself embroiled in an unsavoury scandal at a brothel and sent packing by Headmistress Dilys Derwent. His portrait now graced Snape's quarters, after a lengthy exile in the Trophy Room, and Abraxas often used it to visit.

With true Malfoy flair for the dramatics, Maximus had an inimitable way of making his robes billow to impress and he'd taught it with relish to Severus.

Of course, the young teacher had set his expectations much too high to begin with and was quickly despairing of ever being able to improve on Slughorn's very basic curriculum. His NEWTs classes were too far behind, he said, with most students totally unfit to attend at this level and unlikely to make more than Acceptable. They would never be able to brew professionally, and they were wasting their time and his. He planned to be much more selective next year for his advanced classes.

To top it all, he had the additional trouble that the senior students had known him not so long ago and immediately nicknamed him "Professor Snivellus". They tried from the outset to test his knowledge (the Ravenclaws), to use uncalled for familiarity (the Hufflepuffs), to call out favours (the Slytherins) or to serve him with insolence (the Gryffindors).

In less than three weeks however, Professor Snape had put a stop to it all. He reduced entire classes to tears by driving them to distraction with revisions, rote learning of tables of ingredients, mountains of assignments, and a veritable firework of detentions and point deductions after one suicidal Gryffindor called him "Professor Snivellus" loud enough behind his back.

He sported heavy dark smudges from obvious lack of sleep but he never complained. His colleagues just smiled. It happened to them all in the beginning: you assign too much work and then you realise you have to grade it... But Snape never relented nor slowed his pace.

Instead, the stock administrator began complaining about the inordinate amount of parchments, quills and red ink Professor Snape required, of the lists of finer potions ingredients he ordered – much more than Professor Slughorn had ever used. The suppliers were not happy either, used to dealing with the always arranging Horace Slughorn. Master Potioneer Snape demanded the very best of everything, and he did not hesitate to raise a scandal and threaten them to terminate their contracts if the porcupine quills were a little shopsoiled or the pixy wings fermented.

He was summoned to explain himself in front of the Board of Governors. Several had already tried to take Dumbledore to task for hiring such an exceedingly young and obviously inexperienced teacher. The Gryffindors representatives had all received bitter complaints from their young relatives attending Hogwarts, about the appalling treatment they were receiving from the new teacher, and how he was expecting them all to become Potions brewers. Potions used to be fun with Slughorn, or at least it was an easy course they didn't need to take seriously. Snape was a slave driver.

Instead of quaking in front of the row of severe critics, the Potions master disposed of them rather nastily. He was familiar by now with the way to deal with the Board of Malfoy Industries. The Board of Governors of Hogwarts was not much different.

He said that, unless he had been sadly mistaken, he had not been hired to provide the sort of substandard teaching that had placed Hogwarts at the bottom of all magical schools as far as Potions scores were concerned. He also showered them with figures and charts.

_"You can see I will easily balance the added expenses in ingredients of adequate quality with the substantial economies in my allotted budget on non-essentials like party food or replacement cauldrons. We've already devided the expenses for the cure of accidentally poisoned students by three."_

He then managed to guilt them for their negligence and support of Slughorn's more questionable habits. There was to be no stupid, elitist little club as far as he was concerned - not on his budget, anyway, no bribing from the suppliers. He would not countenance any kind of irresponsible behaviour -he stared at the Gryffindors representatives while saying that- that could endanger other students in his classroom. He didn't actually ask, _"Understood?"_ but it felt very close, considering the exceptional, thunderstruck silence that followed.

Before the pugnacious members of the board manage to rally and call the insolent upstart to order, quiet laughing distracted them. Anthony McNair, Adalia Parkinson, Pansy Rowle and Everard Rosier were showing their deep appreciation of the new Head of Slytherin. The other Governors paused to consider carefully before going against a united Slytherin front. Evan's grandfather winked at Snape.

Understanding that discretion was once again the better part of valour, Snape used the respite to escape. _"Now, I have potions to brew and classes to teach. I wish you a good day."_

Next thing they knew, they were watching the billowing back of his robes and winced at the slamming of the door.

Albus Dumbledore cheerfully proposed to examine the Astronomy course budget, since everyone now agreed on the Potions course budget.

§§§

Soon enough, such routine bickering was forgotten.

The Potters died betrayed by Sirius Black and Voldemort vanished mysteriously after trying to kill the little Harry Potter, who became a celebrity and a legend overnight.

An impromptu holiday was decreed. Students and teachers left to celebrate the end of the war with their family - or to grieve, according to which side they supported.

Dumbledore discreetly brought Severus Snape to Poppy Pomfrey, for a nervous breakdown, he said.

She took the young teacher to task, ordered him to slow down and dosed him for a few days of sleep therapy.

The hunting down of Death Eaters and the sessions of the War High Court became a permanent feature in the Daily Prophet.

However, many people were surprised when a squad of Aurors presented themselves at dawn one January morning and dragged the Potions master away.

Quite a few people raised knowing eyebrows, pretending they had suspected it all along. But everyone – absolutely everyone – was surprised when Albus Dumbledore stepped up to defend Snape as his personal spy and informer. He did everything in his power to have him exonerated in a marathon session of the War High Court.

Unfortunately, between the first mention in the Prophet ( _S_ _candal_ _at Hogwarts: Death Eaters teaching our children!_ ) and the last ( _Dumbledore's man: Snape exonerated!_ ), the whole of Wizarding Britain had two weeks to learn the name of Severus Snape.

The young teacher had to face an unexpected and unwelcome kind of fame that only paled a few weeks later in front of the fresher scandal of Bartemious Crouch Junior being exposed as a Death Eater and sent straight to Azkaban by his stoic and incorruptible father.

Woe betide him who is at the heart of scandal.

§§§

Minerva did not understand the relationship between Snape and Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, always rather ingenuous and kind with the students had always been wary around Severus Snape. She had several times thought that he was not fair with him, as if he had some personal grudge against him.

Snape's loathing of the Headmaster was not a secret either. As insolent as he had been with most of his teachers during his seventh year, he had really gone out of his way to show that he had absolutely no respect for Dumbledore.

And suddenly, the same Dumbledore hired him to one of the most prestigious positions in wizarding Britain, and fought foot and nail for him with the Order, the Board and even his fellow teachers. He let him have his way, even when his teaching methods were more comparable to planned terror than education.

Yet, there was no proof of any particular friendship between them. Snape always sat as far from the Headmaster as possible. They seldom spoke or even looked at each other.

Snape's voice when he spoke of the Headmaster never took the tender, nostalgic accents he unconsciously used when speaking of Abraxas Malfoy.

So what?

Some of Dumbledore's eccentricities and his flamboyant taste in clothing were not typical of a straight wizard. Snape's relationship with Lucius Malfoy had been hot gossip for months and he probably played for the same team.

But Severus had been their student less than three years ago, and the staggering age difference... The fact that Dumbledore was his superior... No, she could not picture them together. Dumbledore's private life was an absolute mystery – and most probably as much of a desert as hers. Besides, nobody could go so absolutely from utter disgust and hostility to… To what she did not even want to imagine.

Still, no one could deny that the Headmaster had dropped everything at once when Snape was arrested, leaving her with nothing more than a few vague words and instructions.

Minerva was left facing the hate mail, angry calls from parents and Governors, and the nosiness of journalists for a whole week without a single clue from Dumbledore. When he returned, he shut himself in his private quarters, telling her he had to prepare for Severus' trial.

Her anger mounted until she was ready to force his door and stone him with his own silly sweets until he told the whole truth.

He finally acknowledged that, yes, Severus Snape had once been a Death Eater – and a member of the Inner Circle no less – but that he'd become his personal spy soon enough.

He did not tell Minerva, though, before bringing Snape back from the Ministry – and only because she asked frantic questions while they were taking their barely conscious colleague to the Infirmary.

Dumbledore half-carried, half-dragged Snape. He made her take the Potions master's arm on the other side and she very nearly retched. He was unspeakably filthy and stank of every possible kind of body waste.

When questioned about his condition, Albus told only three words to Poppy, which made Minerva gasp as much as the Matron. It was a rare thing to see him so grim as he strode away like a man on a vengeful mission.

Minerva returned to her quarters. It would not do for anyone to see the Deputy Headmistress in her current state of anger. She marched to the wall near her desk, tear down her framed Award for Valour and hurled it to the floor. The glass protecting it shattered.

Was this the world for which they had been fighting for?

Albus' hoarse words resonated in her mind.

" _Dementors, and torture"._

§§§

Lucius Malfoy had been dragged to Azkaban the same day that Severus Snape.

The Minister decreed, at Barty Croutch's instigation, that war crimes would not be bailable. After all, most high ranking Death Eaters, or their family, were filthy rich.

So, in spite of his lawyer's best efforts, he rotted there between interrogation sessions, awaiting his trial.

One of his very few comforts at the time was when Madam Yaxley informed him that Severus would not need her help, since Albus Dumbledore had vouched for him and cleared him.

He painfully managed to write one word on the corner of a page. _Slytherus._

Yaxley carried it religiously to Hogwarts.

Snape cried when he read it.

§§§

Major Daily Prophet headlines in 1982.

February:

_Dumbledore petitions for a Commission of Inquiry_

April:

_Palace coup at the Ministry: Amelia Bones ousts Barty Croutch as Head of the MLE._

_Will Dumbledore replace Bugnold?_

_Head Auror Scrimgeour saves his head._

_Drastic reorganization of the Auror Corps._

May:

_Dumbledore, new Chief Warlock._

_Wizengamot votes a motion for national reconciliation._

_Imperioed! Lucius Malfoy exonerated._


	7. Chapter 7

**No we're not in paradise**

**This is who we are**

**This is what we've got**

**(Within Temptation, Paradise)**

* * *

_"_ _T_ _he Ministry's_ _ordered a memorial for the Potters, to be placed at Godric's Hollow. They're planning an inauguration for Halloween. You're invited, of course."_

Albus was looking at her benignly above his glasses. They were sharing a glass after dealing with boring but indispensable statistics for the Ministry.

" _I'll be there, of course,"_ she said sombrely, thinking of the young couple they had lost so tragically. _"I suppose all the Order members will want to go too."_

" _I can think of one who might not be enthusiastic."_

" _Severus?"_

" _Who else?"_

§§§

Snape went, but only under duress.

Every one who was someone in the Wizarding world had to be present. The staff of Hogwarts were expected to be there, particularly the House Heads who were to stand with the officials. Dumbledore insisted that Severus attend, or the Ministry and the Wizengamot would take it as a personal affront after his acquittal. Snape was wise enough not to ask if _Dumbledore_ would take it as a personal affront.

There were several awkward moments after the ceremony itself, like when Alastor Moody bumped hard into Lucius Malfoy in a much too perfect trajectory to be random, or when Snape accidentally found himself next to Rufus Scrimgeour, when the people who had buffered them all moved for one reason or another. They both started, Snape's eyes narrowing in a particularly nasty way while the Head Auror straightened and shook his mane of hair in clear challenge.

" _So, you're going to get rich thanks to the Ministry. I told you you'd brew us Veritaserum if we ever got the budget."_

Snape sneered at the man's impudence. He had been pleading for them to give him Veritaserum since they refused to believe him. Scrimgeour had marched in, grabbed him by the hair and told him in no uncertain terms that there would be none. Barty Croutch would never waste even one drop of the precious brew on Death Eater scums like him, and he had better tell the truth willingly.

Snape held both hands under Scrimgeour's nose and moved his fingers, even the little crooked one that could not heal properly. _"Yes, if I still had hands to brew with when they finished with me._ _Well,_ _I do."_

As she spotted how they both automatically prepared to reach for their wand, Minerva had to manoeuvre quickly before they could say or do more. She had already spotted that nasty new reporter of the Prophet, Rita Skeeter, creeping behind a nearby group. Another scandal would never do.

She grabbed Pomona, who was busy spotting rare flowers in the decorations. " _Follow my lead!"_ she said.

She interposed herself between the two wizards, dragging Pomona with her, as if they were too engrossed in a discussion about the respective merits of thestral dung and cow dung for the vegetable garden to notice they were trespassing.

Filius Flitwick, that most people forgot because of his size, had been listening in shock, suddenly understanding why Severus had been unable to teach for several weeks after his acquittal. Catching Minerva's eye, he nodded at her silent plea and hastened to distract the Head Auror by engaging him in an earnest discussion about the new recruiting methods of the Aurory.

Pointing at a tall, black-skinned Junior Auror, he said, _"_ _You've managed to attract one of my best students. I_ _admit I_ _was surprised to hear_ _that Kingsley Shacklebolt_ _h_ _a_ _d_ _chosen to enter_ _the Aurory after his apprenticeship._ _Last I saw him, h_ _e was ready to make junior partner_ _._ _"_

Scrimgeour was only too happy to speak of one of his brightest recruits since the reform of the Aurory. _"_ _He was clever enough to recognise that we can_ _offer_ _a good lawyer_ _more challenging perspectives than_ _the private sector, and he's not made to be a desk jockey_ _._ _I_ _'m sure_ _he'll go far._ _"_

While they discussed, Minerva and Pomona managed to distract Snape too.

" _I feared the Ministry would go for something absolutely hideous,"_ Minerva said, pointing at the memorial.

" _V_ _ulgar and in poor taste?"_ Pomona snickered. _"I too expected the worst. I must admit it's not too bad_ _and they refrained to put any pompous citation. I suppose there's no ne_ _e_ _d after what's written on their graves._ _'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death'._ _I wonder who chose it._ _"_

" _I did."_

Snape looked up in surprise at Minerva's words, while she explained to Pomona, _"It's from the Christian Bible. Lily was_ _a believer. Dumbledore insisted with the Ministry_ _that she deserved to have her beliefs respected_ _and_ _that's how_ _I was asked_ _to find something not too controversial._ _"_ She turned to Snape. _"What do you think of my choice, Severus?"_

" _It's not too sappy, and it reminds us that death isn't the worst of our enemies."_ After a slight hesitation, he added, _"But you could also have chosen,_ _'_ _Greater love_ _has no one_ _than this, that one lay down his life for his friends._ _' That's what she did for her son, after all._ _"_ He could not help ending on a bitter note, that they both heard and understood.

" _You're familiar with the Bible, Severus?"_ asked Pomona, to change the subject.

" _A little."_

" _More than a little,"_ Minerva said, her curiosity obvious. _"There's not many people who can spontaneously cite Bible verses."_

He shrugged. _"My father insisted on Sunday school. I don't know why, he never attended church except for funerals."_ Unwilling to pursue the subject, he added dismissively, _"What I most appreciated was snack time."_ Well, it was true. Even without Lily, he would have gone just because there was something to eat, even if it was only one or two biscuits.

Thankfully, Pomona was puzzled enough by muggle ways to ask innocuous questions. _"But why would you go to school especially on Sundays?"_

Minerva laughed. _"It's the way muggles call Christian education for the children. It generally happens on Sundays because it's the day of the Lord and children go to regular school the rest of the week."_

Snape interrupted them, seizing the opportunity to escape. _"I must see the Malfoys before they leave."_

They watched him stride towards his friends, kiss Narcissa's cheek and being kissed in return, share a brief nod with Lucius, and the three of them immediately entered in animated discussion.

Filius joined his two colleagues and watched Snape like he had never seen him before.

Much later, when every one had long left, and the moon had not yet risen, a solitary figure made their way to the cemetery and stood in front of the Potters' grave.

The man – the figure was much too tall and angular to be a woman – put a long, fully bloomed stem of Madona lily on the grave. He could not help feeling that his gesture was ridiculous and contrived. It was the first time he had found the courage to come, and only because he had spent the afternoon so close and decided it was not so difficult.

There was nothing here. His mind could not grasp the idea that the woman he had loved was there, rotting in the soil. He could not understand how he had believed he could get any kind of closure by coming here. And yet, he stayed.

He did not notice the light of passing Jack'o lanterns on the road and did not listen to the roars or tittering of children as they hurried along the cemetery.

All he could see and hear in his mind's eye was Lily. Lily who had been exactly the same and still forever changed, pregnant with Potter's child, the last time the met, as she told him, _"I don't hate you"_ …But he did not need something as cliché as standing in front of her grave - and Potter's grave - to remember.

He Apparated away.

§§§

Life went on at Hogwarts, with no visible change in the interaction between Dumbledore and Snape, and Minerva was still left wondering about the exact nature of their relationship.

She now knew that the two men spent hours closeted in the Headmaster's office. It was the true secret of Dumbledore's uncanny ability to spot the weakness of defendants during the war trials, or the true motives of his fellow Wizengamot members. It was not just political flair. The new Chief Warlock had been using Snape's informations all along. She should have made the connection sooner, but they hid well.

What she could not understand, though, was why Dumbledore, generally a fair employer, never emphasized or acknowledged Snape's invaluable help.

Worse, he had the irritating habit to treat Snape as a capricious pet outside Hogwarts, which did not help people to respect the young man. She suspected that it was his way to repel gossip or even – maybe – to convince himself that Severus Snape was not that important to him… That they were not friends, despite all the time they spent together pursuing the same goal.

She could have told him it was a useless endeavour. She could still remember how she had been almost the same with Molly Wesley in the beginning. Molly was younger, and a typical, ignorant pureblood, even if she was not prejudiced against half-bloods and muggleborn. Minerva judged her very provincial and uninteresting at the time, and thought her beneath her notice – all the more because it was obvious that she had no career ambition for herself, no regret to stay at home and that she seldom appeared at the Order's meetings.

Minerva was sure the young Mrs Weasley was in the Order only to follow her brothers and her husband and that her only contribution was to cater for the members. How wrong she was! If anything, Molly was the driving force behind Arthur's political commitment. She had soon become her favourite mate for any assignment, because she was combative, smart, inventive and she never missed a detail.

Except the day she did… But it was not her fault if they were spotted, because Minerva had been just as careless and she had not the excuse of being pregnant and with two toddlers waiting for her.

It was Molly who pointed to Minerva that the way Dumbledore treated Severus Snape was often unfair. Once, she declared that it sounded very much like Dumbledore was marking his own territory around the young man. She asked many questions about the unlikely pair after that, only to dismiss any possibility of their being together, to Minerva's obvious relief. If Molly, with her flair, could not detect more than a reluctant, conflicted admiration between two equally brilliant and stubborn men, it meant that there was not anything else.

Only time would tell if they could really become friends.

Minerva knew how the Headmaster could be opinionated and irritating, because he was used to be right much too often.

Snape was young of course, but just as exasperating. She had not been long to realise that he kept himself under so tight a rein that his anger could not but erupt periodically in irrepressible explosions. Or maybe it was the other way round—he was bursting with such violent emotions on a constant basis that he had to exercise the tightest control on himself to try to contain them.

Whatever, she had seldom seen Albus Dumbledore tolerate so much insolence and independence from a member of the staff before.

No wonder he did not take it very well when he had to extricate Severus Snape from his first chaperoning of a Hogsmeade week-end after his trial.

§§§

Dumbledore charged in Minerva's office without even knocking.

" _Severus is under attack. We must go and rescue him."_

She stood, automatically reaching for her coat and buttoning it. _"How many?"_

" _I don't know. Aberforth only said that there's a mob ready to lynch him."_ He added impatiently, _"Come!"_

She did not have time to reply that she was ready. He grabbed her and pushed her in the Floo, shouting, _"Hog's Head_ _Tapr_ _oom."_

The Headmaster was all support of his Potions master in public, first marching regally on the scene and then putting his hand in a clear gesture of protection on Snape's shoulder.

People automatically calmed down. Dumbledore had that effect on everyone. He looked around, catching as many people's eyes as possible, and they looked away or hung their head in shame.

Minerva realised that he had probably taught most of them. She was glad there were no students amongst the crowd, but she could spot a few groups peering through an arcade or an alleyway. She gestured for them to leave but she had no time to watch if they really obeyed. She doubted it.

Dumbledore was chastising the crowd now. _"I'm very disappointed. Severus Snape took great risks during the war to bring me all the information I needed against the Death Eaters_ _and that's how you're repaying him?_ _"_

" _He's one of them!"_

" _He's not!_ _O_ _r I would be the first to ask for him to be sent to Azkaban. I vouch for him. Do you think me such a simpleton that I would let a Death Eater teach at Hogwarts?"_ It wasn't a question, and nobody challenged him.

What really won the day, however, was his announce that he was offering free drinks to all and sundry at the Hog's Head. Next, he was jovially imbibing with the crowds, a brooding Snape at his side.

It was another song during the subsequent meeting in the Headmaster's office. He sternly reminded Snape that he was asked to keep a low profile and that it was never a good idea to alienate the local population.

The young man did not answer, but if looks could kill, Dumbledore would be lying at his feet.

Albus at his most annoying, thought Minerva. And perfectly dishonest, when you consider it was the Headmaster himself who had put Snape on the Hogsmeade schedule at the last minute, telling him that since he had to face the outside world sooner or later, the sooner the better.

He even had the gale to tell him it would cheer him up a bit.

And he had paired him with Rolanda Hooch.

Filius, or even herself, should have been the obvious choice in Minerva's opinion, even if she knew that Severus Snape was not comfortable with her.

Rolanda did not exactly dislike Snape, though she called him _"_ _totally hung-up"._ She also told every one that it was not worth hiring young flesh, if he was to be even less funny than that old whinny, Horace.

No, the trouble was that Rolanda would always gleefully count points rather than interpose herself when needed. (Of course, the recent defeat of Gryffindor's team against Ravenclaw by a hair's breadth and a too-well-aimed Quaffle still rankled, and it may have had something to do with Minerva's opinion.)

Minerva suspected the Headmaster to be much more annoyed than he let on considering his initial near panic. She had never witnessed him rush to anybody's help like that.

Typically, she now expected him to antagonise Snape by taking it on the young man and trying to make him feel guilty – rather than acknowledge his own fault and very real concern.

What good he hoped to achieve by increasing the young man's discomfiture, though, she could not understand.

She felt compelled to say, _"maybe, it wasn't a very good idea to send him to Hogsmeade so soon."_

Dumbledore answered with typical bad faith. _"My dear Minerva, it was_ _forced on me_ _. If Pomona hadn't_ _that emergency home-_ _"_

" _But he had everything under control, you know,"_ interjected Rolanda helpfully.

Dumbledore smiled a little too sweetly. _"When Aberforth has to send a Patronus and that I arrive on a scene of chaos, I don't think you can call that 'under control', Rolanda."_ His eyes never wavered from Snape's face as he added, _"_ _I found_ _a_ _hostile_ _crowd_ _threatening_ _a_ _Hogwarts teacher, while_ _a handful of locals_ _were_ _nursing bruises_ _on the pavement."_

" _They tripped,"_ dead-panned Snape, which sent Hooch in hoops.

" _And I do not speak of the example for our students."_

Minerva was sure she actually heard Snape's teeth grind.

" _Pff! You only say that because you were afraid for the boy!"_

Turning around in surprise, she wondered when Rolanda had turned perceptive, or if it was just a lucky hit.

She watched angry pink spots light on Snape's cheeks. Dumbledore smiled again and resorted to his old trick of offering lemon drops around but Rolanda was not to be silenced.

" _He handled it_ _coolly_ _enough, I tell you, and you'd better give him the DADA job instead of wasting him on Potions."_

Rolanda's dislike of the current DADA teacher was well known, and the incident seemed to have heightened her opinion of her young colleague.

Minerva inwardly winced. It would never do if she was to start a rumour that Severus Snape, the ex-Death Eater, was now going for DADA teacher. The school certainly did not need to receive any more howlers after the fresh scandal of Snape's dramatic arrest and the _coup de theatre_ of his exoneration and immediate reinstatement.

Rolanda was totally oblivious of the killing stares Snape was sending her, or of the less than amicable demeanour of the Headmaster – not that she ever noticed or cared, or she would have given up refereeing Quidditch long ago.

" _Well, you've got yourself quite the supporter, my boy,"_ said Dumbledore icily. _"I'm just afraid I can't agree."_

Minerva was actually feeling for Snape. There had been a few painful incidents last term when his professional competence had been questioned, which had proved her how hyper-sensitive he was on the subject. Things were already bad enough without his being repeatedly called a boy to his face, and in front of older colleagues who all had taught him.

Really, Dumbledore had not one ounce of psychology to drag Rolanda in it, even if she had witnessed the incident.

She knew what really annoyed Dumbledore: that his less-than-affectionate brother had contacted him in the first place, and that he had not minced words afterwards. Aberforth took great relish in telling him in front of Minerva that, if he had to adopt a pet Death Eater, he had better take care of him, rather than send the young man where some would not mind lynching him.

If Snape did not have the good sense to go to the Hog's Head as soon as he realised he was stalked, there would have been no avoiding a truly ugly confrontation, and there would have been casualties.

Minerva came back to earth. Dumbledore was at it again, and holding forth: Severus had to avoid antagonising people... If he could just be a little more cheerful, they would soon grow more tolerant of him... It would not do for him to hide… But Dumbledore could not let him go out alone...

She heard herself say, _"_ _i_ _f he went regularly to popular spots in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley with one of us, people would soon get used to see him and leave him alone."_

Snape looked at her as if he was ready to Crucio her long and mercilessly, but it was only when she noticed Albus' speculative look and delighted smile that she realised what she had stepped in.

" _This is a marvellous idea, Minerva. I'm glad you volunteered, since it_ _'_ _s obvious Severus couldn't have a more perfect morality sponsor than you._ _I suggest you begin next Friday._ _"_

Rolanda cackled madly, but it did not stop the Headmaster – and she did not mind his little revenge either. _"_ _Rolanda can take your duties of Head of House for the night, and… Well, I think we'll ask Septima to cover for Severus._ _"_

Minerva and Rolanda traded a knowing look. Neither of them relished more than Albus did the idea to go and tell Aurora Sinistra that she would be stuck with Head of House duties again, even if it was only once a week. Septima Vector was a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin, but she was a much better choice and she would appreciate the weekly premium.

Resigned to his fate, Snape said, _"I'll make sure my Slytherins behave."_ No one doubted him.

Rolanda was later heard telling Pomona Sprout that the outings of these two promised to be _"oh! So much fun!",_ both being much too uptight for their own good.


	8. Chapter 8

**Why does love always feels like a battlefield, a battlefield, a battlefield,**

**Guess you better go and get your armor**

(Jordin Sparks, Battlefield)

* * *

True enough, Minerva and Snape's first evening out began as an unmitigated disaster.

Snape had expressed a total indifference to their possible destination, following her resignedly like a lamb to the slaughter. He walked in total silence to Hogsmeade and never departed himself of his usual aloofness, merely listening to whatever Minerva said.

After raking her brain for half an hour to find topics that might interest him and failing to elicit more than monosyllabic answers from him, she gave up.

She ordered the best brandy she knew, decided to at least treat herself with something good.

Fleeting interest lit her companion's face as he ordered the same. She watched him heat his glass with both hands and sniff it with relish. He reluctantly admitted that he rather liked a good liquor.

" _I can see that,_ _"_ she said. _"_ _I must admit I never thought you'd be the type."_

He shrugged, immediately returning to his shell.

 _Oh, no, you don't, Severus Snape. I'll be damned if I spen_ _d_ _even the smallest part of_ _my_ _hard-won_ _weekends_ _in_ _awkward_ _silence for your sake. "I mean,_ _i_ _t's rare to see men your age able to appreciate something so_ _subtle_ _as_ _old_ _liqu_ _o_ _r. It_ _'_ _s generally an acquired taste."_

" _Is this_ _what_ _you_ _Gryffindors call_ _a diplomatic way to say that you expect me to drink_ _until I roll under the table?"_ Before she had time to decide whether he meant to offend or not, he added, _"Don't say it. Most of my_ _old_ _school mates are like that."_

His brow darkened, as he remembered that he would never watch Evan's drunken antics again: the youngest of the Rosiers had killed himself rather than being arrested. His wife should be ready to give birth soon. What would this child know of his or her father, except that he was a Death Eater?

" _Severus?"_

He forced the corner of his mouth to lift in the semblance of a smile. _"It_ is _an acquired taste, and maybe not so surprising in a_ _p_ _otion_ _s brewer_ _? The basics are_ _rather t_ _he same_ _in both trades,_ _you know_ _."_

As he expected, she rose to the bait and asked what he meant, her concern forgotten. So, he explained, since she had never realised distillation and ageing were used in the potions brewing process.

" _Only on higher… experimental levels, I should say… And in Alchemy, of course."_

" _I've never understood the difference between Potions and Alchemy."_

" _Ah! But it's not at all the same..."_ He became instantly incandescent with his passion for Potions, that seek to change an equilibrium or re-establish equilibrium and the alchemical processes that were way above Hogwarts' syllabus, as they could change the very essence of matter and transform it.

Every man will speak about his hobby horse and interests, but this was something more.

Slughorn always said that Snape was a natural at potions, but she had never understood until now that he really was a genius or bordering genius in his field. Minerva finally realised that if Snape was the youngest Master Potioneer since Glover Hipworth, and already a respected member of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, it was not due to Malfoy money or Death Eater influence but to his own accomplishments. Dumbledore always glossed about their chance of securing someone like him for Hogwarts. Until now, she had always thought it was just to impress and justify why he had to impose his double agent on the school, but it was clearly a case of killing two birds with one stone.

They discussed the differences and likenesses between high level Transfiguration and Alchemy. They discovered they both used muggle science and the atomic structure of materials to expend their comprehension of magical processes. They ended pleased to find they were like-minded when it came to scientific approach.

 _He'll_ _never be a popular teacher_ , she thought, but of those who had the aptitude for potions, she envisioned that he would make true Potioneers.

" _We should make a paper about it,"_ she proposed. _"I don't recall anyone actually measuring and comparing the changes brought to the elements by Transfiguration and by Alchemy."_

Severus had never considered that McGonagall could be more than just another teacher and that she could actually be as consumed by her domain as he was by his. He was surprised to find her so interesting that he woul actually wish to work with her.

He heard himself blurt, _"Done! But I don't think we'll be able to do it in just one paper. There are four elements, I'd rather consider a series."_

It was not his habit to be that impulsive. For one fleeting moment he wondered if he had not taken a step to dig his own grave. Volunteering to work with a Gryffindor, indeed! And all for the sake of doing something – anything – at least a little intellectually challenging...

Seven months a Potions master, he reflected, and he was already desperate to escape the boredom of teaching the basics of his trade to abysmally stupid and uninterested teenagers… Not to speak of the soul-destroying task of grading day after day their almost identical, crass attempts at disguising their laziness or their inability to grasp even the simplest notions of brewing.

He also wondered if McGonagall would not regret her offer come morning. It was one thing to get overenthusiastic over a drink and yet another to really commit yourself to long, meticulous research.

But Minerva McGonagall had no afterthought, far from it. They soon found themselves seriously discussing and outlining protocols of study and resources to investigate, how to choose the most significant examples, the fields to favour… And generally turning themselves into perfect bores at the staff table or in the staff room, as they took turns interrupting discussions when an idea would strike them and they had to immediately share it with the other. Sitting arrangement was modified to allow them to sit side by side.

Dumbledore was the only one who could really follow their work. A chance encounter with Nicholas Flamel had inflamed his interest for Alchemy when he was still a student, before he realised he had a greater affinity with Transfiguration and pursued a Mastery in the subject. Nowadays, however, his attention was focused on politics, then the running of Hogwarts, with not much time to keep up with research and discoveries.

Both Minerva and Severus were thankful about it, because the Headmaster was inclined to come and pester them with his own pet theories when he found himself at loose ends.

With minimal disruption, it would still take most of their summer and of their free evenings until the next spring to complete their first paper on comparative Transfiguration and Transmutation of earth components. It would stir up scientific curiosity and interest, and generate a lot of academic correspondence and debate. It was the same with their publications about fire, water and air.

Dumbledore and the Board of Governors rubbed their hands in glee at the additional renown it brought to the school. As expected, they all ended congratulating themselves on their own hindsight, and even condescended to grant a pay rise.

As far as their Friday evenings were concerned, Minerva and Severus tried and shared the whole range of wines and alcohols available in the wizarding world.

Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks had not much in the way of high quality or rare liquors, but what she had was of the finest. The second Friday, Snape enjoyed an Armagnac XO while Minerva went for a Firevodka.

In the course of the evening, he admitted a taste for muggle wines, Italian and French as a matter of course. He also had a fondness for some rare Austrian Elf-made Riesling. He liked the deceptively sweet Sliwovitza that he had discovered while overseeing a joint project between Durmstrand post-graduate Potions course and Malfoy Apothecaries. He only tolerated Igor Karkaroff at the best of time – and even less since the cowardly wizard tried to sell him to the Wizengamot to save his own skin – but he kept an exceptional cellar.

Minerva displayed her own knowledge of muggle as well as magical whiskys, each speaking of its own place, in her native Highlands and, quite surprisingly, of exotic beverages like Feni, Cachaça or Soju, thanks to a muggle uncle who had made a career in the merchant navy.

They both admitted that tasting old favourites or new discoveries would at least be something to look forward for their Friday evening _dates_.

§§§

People rarely made disparaging comments about Severus in Hogsmeade now, all the more since the little they could hear about his discussions with McGonagall always concerned boring experiments of theirs. They never seemed to speak of anything else but work. It was of no interest to most people, but it sounded like a respectable, worthy pursuit, and they appreciated it because everyone was proud to live near Hogwarts.

Diagon Alley was another matter. Minerva would often let Snape walk a few steps ahead and watch. She rarely had to step up, but when she did, it was always ugly.

She generally asked them where they had fought, because she really did not remember seeing them at any tight spot during the war. Most times, it was enough for people to leave, more or less grumbling.

Several times though, she had been really ashamed of her fellow wizards. Severus was not so paranoid as she had first thought when she discovered that he cast a shield on his back every time he left the grounds of Hogwarts.

And yet, she had come to enjoy their evenings, in spite of the "constant vigilance" they had to keep in the streets.

She did not know when she first admitted to herself that she was glad she did not have to walk alone by night, and that the presence of the tall, intense wizard at her side brought her more comfort than she would ever have believed.

After all, it was not so very different from the Order operations during the war, and she had made her best friends during that time.

Severus let slip several times little remarks that proved he felt just the same. It was strange to think they experienced the same thing while living the war on opposite sides.

§§§

The pleasure Minerva had come to anticipate every Friday suddenly evaporated one evening when she caught Snape Vanishing the content of his glass. He had served them a fourth time, if she counted well.

On their sixth or seventh evening out, she had realised that Severus Snape tasted rather than drank. He always served her generously when they ordered a full bottle, but he never took more than two modest half-glasses himself. He had fooled her by eating more than drinking, as he always ordered fresh bread, cheese, fresh or dried fruits with their drinks. It sure enhanced the flavours, but it also hid the fact that he drank little and refilled his glass very sparingly.

She did not say anything at the time. Few people can drink like a Scot, and she was rather proud of it. This time, however, it was too much. Vanishing his wine, really? It could only mean one thing: he was indulging her. And it had to repulse him, if he felt compelled to hide it.

She suddenly felt that there was something disgusting and pathetic in an older woman downing alcohol like she did in front of a healthy young man. She felt keenly the difference of age and physical condition between them.

He was quite athletic, she knew, since he actively compensated for the toxic, unhealthy fumes he breathed all day long with regular sport and a healthy, mostly vegetarian diet - their Friday evening drinking being one of the few breaks he allowed himself. She crossed his path often enough. In the corridors at night, he covered more ground in his rounds that all his colleagues put together. Outside the castle, you could see him brisk walking but she also knew, for watching him from afar in cat form, that he jogged in the Forbidden Forest, and on the road between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. He carefully Disillusioned himself and muffled the sound of his strides but as a cat she felt the vibrations on the ground. She never revealed herself, knowing how intensely private he was.

She knew he made a point of staying fit for fighting and of practising duelling at every opportunity. Not that she could blame him, considering the ways idiots regularly challenged him. She rather enjoyed watching the creative ways he used to flatten them and their pretensions.

Compared to all the things he managed to do in a single day, he had to think she was getting sloppy with middle age, even if he did not mock her overtly.

She blinked to herself, wondering when she had become sensitive to their age difference or about Severus' opinion of her.

She did not say anything but requested they return to Hogwarts earlier than usual. She found no solace in his sudden solicitude, as he enquired several times if she was all right, really all right, or in his slightly disappointed look as he saw her to her rooms.

In a sudden fit of anger and frustration, she transformed into her Animagus and went to make a killing amongst the castle's pests.

§§§

She dragged him to Fortescue's for their next outing. No alcohol tonight. On a whim, because she hated feeling self-conscious, she ordered the house special, an orgy of over fifty different recipes to share. If she was to indulge, she would do it without remorse, even if she waved away all suggestions of whipped cream or dressing.

Snape gave her a surprised look but smirked in appreciation as they were given long and exquisite silver spoons and goblets that had to be Goblin made, a crystal decanter full of the purest spring water and sweet buns to clean and revive their taste buds.

It was not before old Florean brought himself with pride and flourish an enormous _single_ bowl that draw all eyes and not a few ohs and ahs that Minerva realised that they would really have to eat in the same dish. She did not want to look prudish by requesting a personal bowl or go through the even more awkward process of dividing the fifty, magically bound together ice-cream and sherbet balls.

She gave an apologetic smile to Severus, who had raised slightly surprised eyebrows.

He was bewildered by her choice but did not dare say anything, even if the tip of his ears went a suspect red when he saw the bowl. He reminded himself that he had shared more than one curry dish with his mates in Cokeworth without another thought. If he was uneasy at first to dip his spoon in the same bowl, it didn't prevent him to cut through to get to his favourites.

It was of course bound to end in merriment and laughter as she did the same and they fought hard for the almond milk stracciatella, the walnut and coffee, the orange and honeysuckle and, most ferociously, for the Dark chocolate.

He spent the evening identifying faultlessly for her, if sometimes slowly, every single flavour in every recipe – to her utter delight as well as Florean's. The ice-cream maker soon took to stand as close to them as he dared and to nod approvingly like a house elf. All the other customers were relegated to his assistant. Severus wondered where his sudden thought came from, that Florean's irritating hovering at least provided them with a respectable chaperon.

Minerva was still laughing when they went to the Apparition point, and he was trying – and failing – not to grin.

They accidentally bumped into each other on arrival and he jumped back brutally as if burnt.

It certainly killed the mood.

They made the walk up to Hogwarts in silence. Severus was never one to initiate small talk and Minerva felt quite sickened, by the excess of sugar and cream no doubt, and totally out of sorts.

As usual, he escorted her to her quarters, bowed slightly and said, _"it was quite nice,_ _thank you for the experience_ _."_

She did not answer. She was not sure if she wanted to do any of it again, if every evening in his presence was always bound to end in depressing thoughts about her not ageing well.

Somehow, she spent her free moments of the next week looking at every small wrinkle on her face, wondering if she needed to do something about them… or if she was ridiculous.

After another Friday evening of awkward silence when he waited for her to say something – anything – other than work related, he saw her to her door and said stiffly, _"if you're fed up with these outings, you_ _just_ _have to say so. I think_ _Dumbledore_ _will understand."_

He turned so swiftly that she had to call him much louder than she had meant, and the sound seemed to reverberate in the corridor. _"Severus!_ _Wait!_ _"_

He stopped dead and turned very slowly to face her again. There was a strained, almost pained look on his face.

" _I'm sorry,"_ she blurted. _"I realise I wasn't a very engaging companion tonight. It's just that... Well, I didn't feel quite like myself... I promise it will be better next week."_

To her utter surprise, he actually blushed. She had never seen him do that since his early student days, and it made him look incredibly young.

As incredibly young as he really was. The thought struck her like a fire bolt.

Snape nodded and left without another word.

She let herself fall in a seat and put her head in her hands. _He's twenty-two, for_ _land_ _'s sake! Twenty-two. What do you imagine, Minerva?_

Was she so frustrated that she was beginning to fantasize about young men? What would come next, dreaming about her students?

She was crazy.

She decided she must speak to Molly as soon as possible.

Or to Poppy.

But not tonight.

Maybe tomorrow.

Not ten minutes later, he was knocking on her door, very ill at ease.

She was in her nightclothes and his eyes widened as he swallowed.

For the first time she wondered what she looked like – if he would find her favourite tartan dressing gown ridiculous, like so many of her Gryffindors did when they needed her after hours. It had never bothered her before. She liked her tartans.

He simply handed her a vial. _"It_ _'s_ _a fresh batch I brewed earlier today for Poppy."_

Before she could say more than a startled " _thank you_ " and watch what it was, he was already at the other end of the corridor. Quite baffled, she slowly closed her door and looked at the label. She burst out laughing.

_The sweet, sweet man._

It was pain relief, for period cramps.

 _At least, he doesn't think I_ _'_ _m too old for_ _th_ _at._

§§§

She seized his wrist. He slowly raised his eyes to her face. She pointed with her chin at the glass he had wordlessly emptied, once again.

" _Fine,"_ he said. _"You caught me."_ He didn't look embarrassed, or contrite. If anything, he looked amused, and smug.

She hated smug.

" _It's not the first time,"_ she said in reproof.

He merely shrugged.

She asked, more pleadingly than she intended, _"Explain… Please."_

As she repeated one again, _"please,_ _Severus_ _"_ , he felt ashamed of himself. What had he done that made her look so distressed? It was a simple trick, not meant to offend, and yet, her eyes were too bright, like she was going to… To cry?

He did not remember when he had first realised that Minerva's eyes were green. Not the mesmerising, emerald green of Lily's eyes everybody always went into raptures about. No, Minerva's were the same dark green as the powdered jasper he used for Pepper-Up and his most potent curatives. The thought had struck him one day as he was brewing. He was stirring and adding his Jasper powder, and the next thing he knew, he was thinking of Minerva and of her eyes, and how she made him feel good and at peace like his best potions on Friday nights.

Somehow, he could not stand the idea of hurting her, whatever the reason. He would not deny her, but if he kept looking into her eyes, he would not be able to say anything – he just knew it.

So, he sat back and raised his eyes to the ceiling, gathering the courage to speak.

He did not remember exactly when his father began to spend more and more time at the pub, and to bring less and less money home. He did not remember being frightened of his father or hungry as a small child, so it must have happened later, but he remembered much too well the first time he had hit his mother. And he perfectly remembered the later years. Lily had never known the full extent of his life at home, but her parents knew or at least suspected. It was no't that exceptional either at Spinner's End. The Evanses always welcomed him, no matter how slovenly or sullen he was at times – and more often that not, he was both.

" _There are enough stories of what alcoholism can bring to a family._ _I won't bore you with mine_ _."_

The result was that Severus Snape had a deeply ingrained dislike of alcohol. He had his father's example – or rather counter-example – to deter him, but he did not really care when he was younger.

Teenagers experiment, mostly in groups. He discovered the hard way that his own tolerance for alcohol was lower than average. He did not worry about it when he was sixteen, not when the only game in town for the teenagers of Spinner's End was to get pissed.

" _At sixteen?"_ Minerva gasped.

He shrugged. This was the very reason he did not like to speak of himself. It had been a serious social handicap to be working class, and even worse, _muggle_ working class, when he had gone to Hogwarts. He did not need for people to think he was underclass to top it all – even if it was a close thing.

He worked hard to forget it, and to make people forget…

Briefly, he wondered what he was doing, telling things like that to Mrs-the-daughter-of-the-Pastor? It would be all over the school in no time.

Minerva's hand once again on his arm brought him back to the here and now. _"It's not a judgement, Severus."_ It sounded like an apology. Oddly enough, he believed her. _"_ _I was just surprised."_

Kicking herself mentally for making things even more awkward when for the first time ever he'd been in a confiding mood, she felt compelled to add, _"_ _Minors aren't supposed to_ _have access to alcohol_ _..._ _"_

He snorted and she blurted, _"_ _Oh! Sweet Jesus! I'm getting deeper and deeper!_ _I'm not that naive, you know_ _._ _Well, not usually._ _"_

He could not help himself, he chuckled. She joined him, more loudly than the occasion deserved, but it was a reaction, and a welcome one. She just hoped she did not sound too hysterical.

She wiped the corner of her eyes at last. _"I'm really sorry. I appreciate that you trust me enough to speak about it. Truly._ _I didn't mean to sound so…_ _So_ _prissy. It was_ _c_ _oncern..._ _S_ _ympathy,_ _n_ _othing else_ _._ _And_ _I hope you know that I wouldn't tell anyone._ _"_

She was right, he trusted her. He did not know where it came from, but he trusted her. Maybe because she was the only one of his teachers who _had_ cared a little, enough at least to try to help.

" _My father was a drunken swine, but I was sure I'd never be like him, of course."_

Except that… Once, he had been so far gone that he had assaulted a pair of older boys who tried to pick up Lily. She had been impressed rather than frightened or disgusted, because she was rather… Well, they were all rather sloshed, if truth be told… But the others at least remembered where they lived, and they did not attack people even if they did not like how they looked like and how they chatted up their girls. He had been very lucky nobody called the police and that they were in a part of Cokeworth where people did not know them.

He had sported bruises and a black eye for several days but he did not remember much. He did not worry as he should have, because Lily treated him like a hero and their friends all found it was a good lark – Russ Snape teaching a lesson to those clots from Upper Cokeworth.

It was at Hogwarts that he began to wonder. He always rolled under the table during the after match celebrations in the common room, even if he drank much less than the others. He had found himself embroiled in Avery's and Mulciber's stupid pranks several times without remembering how.

At first, he suspected that his Slytherin mates drugged him to mock him, but they were not smart enough for that. He had grown suspicious. He watched and tested everything for spiking, without results. It did not change anything.

Research made him suspect that he carried a genetic tendency towards alcoholism and addiction. It terrified him. For a time, he absolutely refused to drink alcohol and even to eat alcohol-flavoured food.

Abraxas Malfoy treated his reticence as just another social disgrace. He managed to cure him of it by educating his taste and insisting on quality rather than quantity.

The Potioneer in him had a natural affinity with ingredients and quickly picked oenophilia with other upper class affectations.

As his association with purebloods led to more and more evenings out, he could not avoid social drinking. And he could not always avoid to drink with his school mates. There had been that embarrassing time, his last leaving feast... (No, he was not going to say that to McGonagall, even if she was Minerva these days.)

So, he developed a handful of tricks to drink sparingly while appearing to partake as willingly as the others.

" _Why didn't you just tell me?!"_ she cried, more relieved than she meant to acknowledge. Whatever silly ideas she got into her head, he had never watched or judged her. He was only watching himself.

" _You think it's something I'm proud of?"_

" _I think you've much to be proud of… Even if the evil in me would like to see you when you're drunk."_

" _I don't believe it's a pretty sight."_

" _I don't know that. You'd be putty in my hands."_

Realising the double entendre, she blushed.

Unexpectedly, he blushed too.

He had very disturbing dreams after that. Not unwelcome, but disturbing. And not just dreams. He never imagined getting off on a woman old enough to be his mother, but the proof was there.

It was incredible what being trapped as a teacher at Hogwarts could do to you.


	9. Chapter 9

**It's not the monsters under your bed**

**It's the man next door**

**That makes you fear, makes you cry**

_**(Nightwish, Dead to the world)** _

* * *

Minerva was a sore loser. She knew it, but she couldn't help herself, all the more because she hated the forlorn looks of her defeated cubs. They were not made for defeat, and she didn't want to hear that it was only Quidditch. Gryffindors could be sublime in victory, generous, even magnanimous, but they were easily destabilized by defeat, which could turn them petty and quarrelsome. So, she walked back in silence. It took her some time to realise that Severus was walking by her side. She appreciated that he didn't try to say anything.

 _There's no point in goading her_ , he thought, _she does it well enough all by herself._ Truly, it was funny to watch, and a little endearing.

He also preferred not to grouse about Gryffindor's defeat, because the Slytherin team wasn't so much better than theirs this year. Hufflepuff had beaten Gryffindor, but even if Slytherin won the next match against Ravenclaw, the cup would still go to the Badgers. His snakes were too far behind Hufflepuff. If Slytherin lost, the cup would go to the Ravens. Even if they were going to play for honour's sake more than anything else, he didn't think much of Slytherin's chances, though he'd never admit it aloud of course.

It was Sunday and entirely unusual for them to spend time together that time of week, but he was loath to see her go. Purely out of sympathy, of course, and to distract her, he invited her to his quarters.

" _Come,"_ he said as she hesitated, fully knowing he'd arouse her curiosity with his next words. _"We'll do just like Napoleon."_

Of course, she pestered him all the way down to the dungeon to know what he meant.

" _You'll see."_

He bowed formally as they reached his door to let her pass. She looked around, openly curious since it was the first time she entered his private chambers. They couldn't have been more different from Horace Slughorn's decadent bijou flat: all in pure and clean lines, neutral but not boring colours and a total absence of knick-knack. She was not a little surprised to also find them full of natural light from a myriad of magical skylights. She felt like she'd stepped in one of these so-called _little pied-à-terre_ you see only in luxurious magazines.

As she'd long deduced from his hedonistic enjoyment of luxurious spirits and delicate foods, Snape's lean, almost ascetic figure was definitively misleading, as were his black robes. She watched him taking them off to hang them, and remarked to herself that they were not that austere. It was just that they reminded her of her father's preaching robes. She smirked. From all accounts, Snape was promising hell to transgressors just as efficiently – and actually delivering it.

Severus called softly, _"Moppy?"_

A smiling house elf appeared, ready to fuss, but her smile froze when she noticed Minerva. She gave Snape a dubious look, that he ignored. She wore a Slytherin napkin instead of one of Hogwarts kitchen towels but Minerva was sure she'd seen her elsewhere and that she was a school elf.

Severus lifted a finger, looking at Minerva. _"Champagne!"_

In the blink of an eye, Moppy was setting before them crystal flutes and a bottle of champagne that Snape opened dexterously.

He poured the bubbly wine and handed one flute to a still incredulous Minerva. _"Napoleon said that he drank champagne when he won, to celebrate, and when he los_ _t_ _, to console himself."_ He took the other and raised it. _"_ _A_ _ta_ _santé, chère collègue!_ _"*_

Minerva burst out laughing. They clinked glasses, smiling at each other. She looked into Severus' eyes and took her first sip. The fruity, sparkling wine gave her the feeling of a kiss.

When she finally noticed that the bottle was labelled _Malfoy & __Fils_ _– Cuvée Spéciale_ and asked, he shrugged. It didn't even hurt to answer her. Not much. Abraxas had ordered from the family vineyard that fruity blend of Chardonnay with a touch of Pinot Noir for the reception after his adoption.

He couldn't help looking at the portrait of Maximus Malfoy, a little disappointed that Abraxas wasn't there. Old Maximus winked. Severus remembered another thing that the Potions master had taught him, one he'd heard from the Marquise de Pompadour herself: champagne is the only wine that leaves a woman beautiful after drinking it.

He turned back to Minerva and couldn't help feeling that she always looked beautiful.

§§§

As Snape had feared, the Slytherins lost the last game of the year to an incredibly inspired, invincible Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Not only did the Raven win the Quidditch Cup with that final victory, but the House Cup was practically theirs thanks to the bonus points. Flitwick's jubilation was positively indecent.

What hurt the most was that, as usual, Gryffindor rejoiced more over Slytherin losing than over Ravenclaw's victory, as proved by the mean, derogatory insults showered on the Slytherin players. Hufflepuff had supported Slytherin, but they didn't mind joining in the jeering, now that they'd lost the cup.

Snape went to the Slytherin changing room to comfort the team. He'd taken good note of who were the ringleaders, and they had it coming. He didn't say it, but they understood. He'd spoken to them as war comrades rather than students. He must have found the right words, because they all straightened and gave him valiant smiles as he watched them walk back to school, in all appearance as arrogant as ever.

But as soon as his snakes were out of sight, he'd looked so defeated that Minerva couldn't help herself. She marched on him and hugged him. He stared wide-eye and just stood there, stiff as a poker.

She let go, took a step backward and they both coughed in embarrassment. She immediately set to explain that it was the least she could do, a _qui pro quo_ for being so decent after Gryffindor's defeat.

He shook himself out of self-consciousness and sighed, _"Well, I think it's my turn deserving champagne. Will you bear me company?"_

§§§

Minerva couldn't stand that kind of drunken banter.

Try as she might, she couldn't take any of the dirty innuendo lightly. She never could, even before...

She shuddered.

She'd been doubly insulted. Insulted as a woman and as a teacher. They had seen fit to address her as she came back from the rest room because she had a reputation for being rather prude and strict – and of course, that kind of men would find it exciting to rile her and get a response out of her.

They wondered loudly about what she hid under her robes and proposed outrageously, encouraging each other, and asking for practicals and private lessons.

They were not really bad men, they just had too much to drink. Like her. Nothing was going to happen, she repeated herself. There was nothing to it. It was a public place. She was well known and…

And she fought not to be sick at the thought that it turned them on. It had been a long time since she last panicked like that.

What had gotten into her to suggest the Leaky Cauldron as a desirable place to attend on a Friday night? She ought to have known they were bound to meet that kind of men, and that kind of situation.

Severus didn't want to go, calling the place _"a little too cosmopolitan"._

 _S_ he'd just laughed at him, calling him a snob. _"As I won't go to Knockturn Alley, even for your sake-"_

He interrupted her. _"If you really have my sake in mind, even if you apparently don't care for yours, we won't go to Knockturn Alley, and certainly not at night."_

She tut-tutted. _"Don't interrupt."_

He bowed with exaggerated contrition. _"Sorry, Ma'am."_

She chuckled. _"Tom isn't the best_ _landlord_ _,"_ \- he snorted - " _but you can't deny_ _his_ _place is_ _one of the most popular_ _of the Wizarding world. If we can blend there, I'll have no more qualms when I see you leave Hogwarts alone."_

He'd rolled his eyes, barely refraining to tell her she acted like a mother hen, but he reluctantly agreed, in the end. The infamous Tom had an impressive array of Scottish brands and it was just the thing for Minerva this Friday.

They were supposed to treat each other with the best of Scotland, as a consolation prize for losing the House Cup.

Snape watched Minerva walk back to their table. He didn't like this place, it felt too much like the dirty, noisy sort of pub his father used to haunt.

He knew he'd reached his alcohol limit if he was thinking about Tobias Snape.

Since he had confessed that he didn't carry alcohol very well, Minerva had convinced him that it was a matter of training, and that he should try to drink just a little more and see what happened. It was a very bad idea, considering his present state.

He saw her slow down and pale as the blokes tried to pick her up, not very seriously he could say, though he didn't hear more than the coarse laughter. He could only guess, and imagine the dirty, insulting jokes.

He straightened up but still hesitated to stand up and march on them. They were not really dangerous, only vulgar and loosened up by the alcohol, but he knew it would only take a few wrong words and he might make a faux pas. He was already feeling an irrepressible urge to hex the tall one who was invading Minerva's personal space right now, but he knew there would be hell to pay if he didn't keep his head.

Still, Minerva seemed uncharacteristically shaken, so he must have missed something. She was always so collected, suffering no nonsense and perfectly able to send even the most aggressive lout packing.

He rose slowly, menacingly and it was enough to catch the men's attention and for them to back down. He held Minerva's chair until she reached him and sat back. He stared them down, one after the other. They were not so drunk that they'd be silly enough to take it out on a former Death Eater, reformed or not.

It was a heady feeling to watch them deflating and giving him sullen, resenting looks before turning their attention somewhere else.

People still whispered when he entered places like the Leaky that this high and mighty bastard had been cunning enough to gain the favour of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and avoid Azkaban, just like his friend, Lucius Malfoy. He was intouchable, but there's no smoke without fire, right?

As low as she felt, and despite her slightly impaired faculties, Minerva didn't miss the irony of the situation. The purpose of their going out together was to protect _him_ from unwanted, hostile attention – despite his public exoneration and Dumbledore's support. And there she was, frightened and upset by a band of vulgar drunks, and only too glad to have Severus showing off for her sake.

They stayed only another ten minutes, and merely out of pride.

On silent accord, they stood to leave. Severus hadn't yet closed the door when they both heard, very distinctly, _"_ _A_ _Death Eater?_ _She must like it rough_ _,"_ followed by another round of crude laughter. Someone added, _"They must have fun in that school of the_ _irs._ _"_

He clenched his fists in anger but didn't call back. He'd learned years ago how useless it was. Besides, as Lucius would say, one doesn't fight with the populace. They're like a flood. You can only canalize it or flee it.

He opened the passage to Diagon Alley in just one angry move and began to walk away in swift strides from his long legs.

He stopped abruptly in his tracks when he realised Minerva was unable to keep up with him. When he saw how pale she still was, he didn't bother asking whether she would be able to walk all the way back from the Apparition point. He just put his arm around her shoulders and Apparated them both in a secluded birch grove not far from Hagrid's hut. She instantly guessed it was his private Apparition point, courtesy of Dumbledore for his spy.

He released her abruptly, and she faltered. He reached for her in support again. She clung to him gratefully, not realising she'd let out a little anguished cry.

He watched her face working like she was fighting tears, as she indeed was, and how quickly she breathed. He recognised she was in danger of going hyperventilating on him.

He'd never seen her like that. Never imagined that she was anything but a self-assured, mature and rather bossy witch.

The past weeks, he'd been feeling again like the first year who had a crush on that unattainable goddess who could transform into a cat – his Transfiguration teacher.

Tonight, she was just a woman – as fragile as any whose life he'd held in his hands. Crying or emotional females always made him feel like a clumsy oaf. It didn't help with his mother. It didn't help with Lily. It didn't help when they were Death Eater fodder and he had only seconds to decide if they would live or if he'd have to kill them outright.

But he'd been Head of House for some months now, and it had been a crash course in the dos and don'ts of dealing with female emotions. So, he hugged her gently, like he would a frightened doe, began to trace small, steady circles on her back and instructed her several times to hold her breath, and counting for her.

At last, her breathing returned to normal. She sighed and clutched harder, tears beginning to spill at the corner of her eyes.

When she began to fidget, he extracted a handkerchief and put it in her hands. He'd discovered they could be powerful magic when it came to stop tears, as distraction devices.

She blew her nose. _"It's not true, you know."_

 _What?_ What did she mean?

She mumbled something about Death Eaters in his handkerchief and wet it with fresh tears, before leaning against his shoulder again – clearly to hide her face.

Automatically, his arms embraced her and drew her against his chest. _"_ _There, there,"_ he whispered.

After a time, she blew her nose again and said, _"_ _I'm sorry._ _I didn't mean to be so pathetic._ _"_

 _She_ was sorry? Boiling with anger, he decided there and then that those wastes of magic back at the pub would soon learn not to insult decent witches.

He wouldn't listen to Albus this time. Albus had proved he was unable to protect people. He was going to do it himself this time.

He didn't realise he was ranting, though Minerva didn't understand the half of it. She felt safe in this man's arms, though. She had missed the feeling so much since Dougal's death – really much more than she'd missed sex in fact.

He was just the same height Dougal had been and, believe what you want, there's something to say for men of the right size, so that your head rests just against their shoulder when they engulf you in their embrace, and put their chin on your head… And make you feel safe and cared for.

She gave another sigh but a contented one this time. She certainly didn't consider him dangerous – not any more.

He had nothing of _them_ , nothing of a man who will lose himself to his baser instincts, of one who could hurt and rape a woman for fun or revenge, or under orders. For once, she was thankful that he was just as damaged as herself.

After a while, she caught herself inhaling his male scent with relish. She relaxed in the slow back rubbing they were giving each other – because at some point, she'd begun to reciprocate.

She realised that they were both on the verge of doing something stupid they would regret.

It was her duty as the older to signal that it had to stop, that she was all right now. She was past being overcome simply by the closeness of a man – wasn't she?

Besides, he was gay. She was a grandmother. She hadn't touched a man since months before her husband's death. She had told herself with relief at the time that she would never have to touch one again and she had meant it. She probably wouldn't know how to do it any more.

And he had been her student, never forget that.

It was just the alcohol, and the shock of being chatted up and insulted.

 _Minerva,_ _collect yourself,_ _witch_ _!_ She tried to return to the present and to say goodnight.

Severus had other ideas. He was intoxicated enough, for once, that his usual level of restraint was considerably lowered. He was also still full of adrenaline from the encounter at the pub, hence his present need to protect her.

He didn't remember why he had thought all these weeks that it would be a bad idea to indulge himself in touching Minerva for real.

He'd just decided that she smelled very much like the orange blossom flavoured biscuits he used to eat at Mrs Pinhoe's when he was a child. He discovered in himself an irrepressible need to taste if she was just as delicious.

He didn't care about any of the things she was trying to tell him. That she was old. (Not true.) Old enough to be his mother. (He knew.) That she had grandchildren of her own. (He knew, didn't care.) That he used to be her student, for God's sake! (They were colleagues, now.) That Dumbledore wouldn't like it. (Sod the old fool! Every thing was his fault.) Or that he was supposed to prefer men. (How wrong she was.)

He couldn't find the words to tell her that she was talking rubbish. His blood having migrated south, his brain was now too busy registering and cataloguing delightful information about Minerva's body, but there was no mistaking the welcome she was giving his hands despite her words.

Tentative at first, her own hands seemed to have grown a will of their own to explore, as their owner felt more and more at home groping Severus in blissful reciprocity.

When he kissed her, she discovered that her lips were just as interested as her hands.

As he half-carried, half-pulled her towards the castle, she managed to tell him they had to stop before someone happened on them.

Severus had no such urge because, unlike Minerva, he'd never had young children or a large family, and therefore no opportunity to experience that particular type of Coitus Interruptus, when you're unexpectedly being called or looked for. He actually stopped, though, leaving her feeling bereft and disappointed that he'd listened... But only long enough to Disillusion the both of them.

She couldn't find any more objection after that.

§§§

She giggled softly against his chest as he woke up.

" _When I think that I believed you were queer."_

He smirked, all the more smug that she was doing interesting things on the most tender (ah! Not any more) part of his body.

He kissed her and drawled, _"_ _it should be obvious_ _by_ _now that I_ _'m not."_

She giggled again. He found it irritating with his students and with other women, but somehow, he didn't care when it was Minerva. He even found it cute. He couldn't help smiling as he stroked her just there in fair reciprocity.

" _What about Lucius Malfoy?"_ she asked.

He sighed dramatically, though he expected the question, sooner or later. She stroked harder, making him moan and repeated her question with a smirk. He relented with a snort that turned sooner than he expected into another strangled moan. " _An act…_ _Ah!_ _"_

He fought back. _"Mmmm!"_ she purred. _"Funny... Funny kind... Of act... But I shouldn't wonder any more with... Aaah! With you..."_ She sighed languorously but never lost track of what she wanted to know. _"Why the charade?"_

He took her hand in his, stopping their moves. He sat upright, so as to be able to look her squarely in the eyes. This was serious. If they were to have a relationship, better clear things from the first.

" _I don't do orgy any more than rape,"_ he said. _"Neither does Lucius, whatever you think about him. It was the best excuse we could get away with at the time and guard each other's back."_

She gasped. _"Literally, guard?"_

He shrugged. _"Don't believe every wild tale or dirty phantasm you've heard about_ _the_ _Revels_ _... But it was wiser to have a_ _nother_ _excuse_ _than being disgusted by what_ _the other Death Eaters did_ _."_

She hadn't forgotten what that tone meant. Dougal used to indulge her curiosity but he could be quite stubborn too when he wanted to close a subject and bless him! Her husband had never had dark secrets like Severus.

She smiled, licked his lips and they returned to the delights of skin on skin.

Afterwards, he surprised her by saying, _"I'm not sure how one is supposed to act. I've never been in that sort of thing."_

" _You surely do not mean the love making."_

" _I mean this..."_ He gestured at the both of them. _"The waking up together with someone you don't know that well but want to know better."_

He wanted to know her better? They were already colleagues, a successful research team, drinking buddies, they'd just slept together… And he still wanted more? If she were thirty years younger, she would be beaming like a fool and throwing herself in his arms, planning happily ever after.

She just said, " _Ah! The 'morning after'?"_

He grunted, _"_ _I only had the one_ _true_ _girlfriend..."_

She smiled. " _Lily Evans?!"_

" _Who else? But we'd known each other for ever. I never had to wonder too much about what to do or to say with her. After her, it was only… One night stands, I suppose you'd say, except I never stayed the night. I'm not sure what… Err... How..."_

He stopped, knowing he was babbling and making a fool of himself. She clearly wasn't interested. He began to ponder whether he should leave at once or if there was some etiquette to follow.

She was as discomfited as he looked, but she managed to say, _"Neither am I."_

He looked at her doubtfully.

" _It's true. I'm from another generation entirely. We were brought up very strictly and I went a virgin to my marriage bed. I've had no other than Dougal. Well, apart the..."_

He silenced her with a soft finger on her mouth, rubbing away the painful words she'd already confessed.

§§§

She'd confused and alarmed him by crying softly, helplessly after their first time. He was instantly frightened that he'd hurt her by being inconsiderate on top of too hasty. His own pleasure had ambushed him so fast and so powerfully that he'd been unable to think about anything else.

It had been an anguished moment for both.

Full of guilt, he held her to his chest, repeating that he was sorry, that it was so good he couldn't hold back, that if she would only let him…

She shook her head, unable to speak and making it worse for him until she was finally able, at last, to confess that it was joy and not pain – for feeling alive again after so many months and years of nightmares, of shame and of disgust about her encounter with his fellow Death Eaters. She hadn't reached her peak, but she had wanted him as she had been unable to want a man since then. When she'd felt her pleasure building, it simply overwhelmed her.

She stayed in his arms, crying and laughing, and kissing him, and finally just content to be silent, while he tried to collect himself. It hit him that he'd just made love, without that much preparation, to a woman who had lived what? Eight or nine _years_ with the memory of being bound and watching her partner being raped and tortured until blood flew out of her belly, before they came to her in the same cycle of domination, physical violence and Cruciatus.

It sounded so familiar, so like Mulciber's gang having their fun and making an example of blood traitors, that he could only close his eyes in pain. They'd been spared because leaving them alive was much more humiliating for their family and much worse for the morale of the Order. Traumatised survivors were the most effective tool of terror of the Death Eaters.

He held her tight, offering silent thanks to Urquart and Dumbledore for insisting she kept her maiden name when they recruited her, first for the Ministry and then for Hogwarts. She had a good professional reputation after her teaching apprenticeship at Hogwarts before her marriage, so it was logical, but it also avoided to make her a clearer target. Being a half-blood married to a muggle was unpardonable. (His jealous streak also made him suspect that Elphinstone Urquart was already sweet on her at the time, and hoping she would divorce her husband at some point, with minimal fuss if she didn't wear his name.)

They sat in silence in the middle of her rumpled bed, holding each other until it became horribly awkward. Almost at the same time, they felt the need to say, _"I'm sorry."_ The absurdity of it made them smile to each other, rather tentatively at first and then more fully. They shared careful but tender gestures of comfort. They'd been friends for months, after all, even if they were both wondering if spending the night together hadn't been a colossal mistake.

He'd looked straight in her eyes while she couldn't help giving details, now that the gate of memories was open. She would have thought he didn't really believe her story if she hadn't seen the tears in his eyes—it would be quite some time before he admitted he was a Legilimens.

He had been so incredibly tender after that, saying just what she needed to hear, doing her exactly what her body craved for – and that she'd refused to herself for so long. She knew it was his way of making amends for all men and of cleansing himself as well of his own painful memories. She could hardly believe that so young a lover could be so generous and attuned to her needs.

He felt compelled to swear that he had never – never! – had a woman with the Death Eaters. She told him that she already knew, because after all this time working and speaking together, it was obvious he was neither a rapist or a killer.

" _You don't know me!"_ he cried, unable to keep his own anguish for himself. _"I didn't rape… But I kill_ _ed_ _."_

She watched him in thunderstruck silence, as he held his breath, unable to believe he'd said it. Then, words of excuse bubbled out of his mouth. _"I couldn't stand to watch… To take part…_ _There was no other way..."_ She put her fingers on his mouth to shush him. Tears were falling from their eyes again, that they were both helpless to stop.

He refused to be soothed. _"They hated me for it… Mulciber and_ _his men_ _..."_ He felt her stiffen at the name. He swallowed before he could pursue, _"_ _They took it out to me. They even complained to the Dark Lord,_ _but I_ _couldn't find an_ _y_ _other way!"_

His distress gave her the strength to calm down. Deliberately, she said, _"I've wished so many times I'd been killed, I can tell you, what you did for these women… I suppose they were women?"_

" _Mostly."_

" _What you did for them was the only possible thing you could do at the time."_

" _Do you think so?"_ he asked eagerly. _"Do you really think so?"_ His face almost crumpled as he stroked her cheek. _"I might have killed you."_

" _You were barely fourteen at the time. You're not responsible for what happened to me. Besides, they didn't want to kill me, just to break me and leave me to live with my shame."_

Stubbornly, he insisted, _"But I was a part of it."_

" _Did you really know what would be asked of you when you joined the Death Eaters?"_

" _Of course not, but-"_

" _But nothing. Listen. I knew what happened to people targeted by the Death Eaters, but my mind didn't really believe the reality of it. Nothing could have prepared me. I don't believe you were prepared either. I don't believe any one can be prepared."_

He gave a painful laugh. _"We believed we were going to be the Knights of a glorious future. Rabastan used to say-"_

With a sinking feeling, she asked, _"Rabastan Lestrange?"_

He was more than a little defiant when he answered, _"Yes, Rabastan Lestrange._ The _Rabastan Lestrange. A very good friend of mine, I'll have you know, and almost a family relationship through the Malfoys."_

She exhaled deeply and put her hand on his. She'd never meant to put him on the defensive. _"I'm sorry I interrupted. I don't judge you."_

He sighed, just as frustrated. _"This is bound to happen again, to the both of us. After all, Alastor Moody is a friend of yours."_

" _Moody?"_

" _Moody the torturer, yes."_

" _The-"_ Her eyes widened in horror. _"Did he- When you were arrested, did he-"_

" _Don't worry. I didn't rate enough to be interrogated by Auror Moody himself."_ He snorted. _"I dined with most of the high ranking Death Eaters, and I was really friends with several."_

" _Evan Rosier?"_ She remembered they were close friends in their senior year.

He nodded, a pained look on his face. _"Rabastan married his sister. That's how… Never mind."_

" _You were going to tell me something Rabastan Lestrange told you about the war,"_ she said softly. She wouldn't let him go back to his shell, he was capable of brooding for weeks, even if she could admit he would have every excuse.

" _He told us that you get used to it. He was speaking of the atrocities."_

" _But it's not true."_

" _It is, in a way. You get used to the inevitability of it."_ She barely heard him, as he added, _"That, or you get mad."_

Her feelings mirrored his. _"And we believed we could fight evil without being tainted ourselves. The only truth is that war is ugly and that it doesn't destroy just physically."_

Because they both needed to feel alive, he worshipped at her shrine again, curbing his own passion this time, pleading for her to take all she wanted of him, for as long as she wanted… Until she was pleading too, asking, demanding – and they both cried out in as much pleasure as gratitude.

When she thanked him again for being different from the other men, from the other Death Eaters, he looked at her with that intense, earnest look of his and said, as if it was a vow, _"there's no need to say it again. I know, and you know, and it shouldn't matter any more."_

And she so much wanted to believe it that she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * A ta santé, chère collègue = cheers, dear colleague.


	10. Chapter 10

**And I don't know how you do it,**

**making love out of nothing at all**

_**(Air Supply, Making love out of nothing at all)** _

* * *

**It's just the beasts under your bed,**

**In your closet,**

**In your head!**

_**(Metallica, Enter Sandman)** _

* * *

Minerva did not expect that he would come back the very same evening after their first night, and the Sunday night too after his rounds, and that she would welcome him. After that, the week was devoted to exams, and they really had no time to share, except fleeting looks and exhausted smiles.

She wondered what would happen, come Friday.

On Friday night, as soon as they were out of Hogwarts and out of sight, he kissed her briefly but tenderly and took possession of her hand. They walked leisurely to the Apparition point, speaking about their week when he suddenly stopped, looked around and brought her behind a clump of trees – one all the teachers knew, as they always had to dislodge students during the Hogsmeade week-ends. There, he set upon proving her that snogging was not reserved to their teenaged charges.

She feared how he would react when she took her distance in public. She should not have worried, because he let go of her hand before they reached the Apparition point and acted just as usual in Diagon Alley.

She found it better, though, to clear things as soon as possible. The wine bar offered the perfectly appropriate little booths for privacy. Severus still cast his usual Muffliato on principle.

As soon as they were served, she began, _"_ _You'll agree with me that this… This thing between us-"_

He drawled, _"It's called a relationship, I_ _think_ _."_

" _Well, I have no illusion it will last."_ She hated how his face instantly turned blank and she hastened to say, _"_ _Don't mistake me, it's very nice-"_

" _Nice!"_ He snorted.

" _Agreeable, if you prefer. Mutually agreeable."_

" _I should hope. Either we find mutually agreeable terms, or there's no point to pursue any of this."_ There was a slight edge to his voice that told her she was on dangerous ground but she had to make him understand, without damaging either their friendship or their professional relationship.

She could not afford to invest too much in a relationship with him, she pleaded. She had to protect herself, because what she told him last Friday was still true. She was still old enough to be his mother. She still had a family and children who did not expect her to start a new relationship with anyone, and certainly not with a man younger than they were. They had a foot in the magical world and another in the muggle world. Severus knew as well as she did that it was a shame for the muggles when an older woman took a young lover.

She was adamant that she would not be a motive of scandal and discord for her children or for any member of her family and of Dougal's family.

" _Never fear._ _I'm not one for_ _S_ _unday_ _family_ _dinners,"_ he said sarcastically.

" _Lunch, dear,"_ she joked, to lighten the mood. _"We go to church and lunch together. It would leave you time for your own family dinners."_

He drawled, _"_ _You're welcome at Malfoy Manor, you know."_

She pulled a face. _"No thanks, really."_

" _You must know I have hardly any secret with Lucius, and even if I don't tell him, Narcissa will guess –_ _but y_ _ou can count on their absolute discretion."_

She watched his face darken. He clearly had something else to say, and she guessed she wouldn't like it.

" _Your muggle relatives mustn't know, but neither must my wizard associates."_ As she didn't seem to understand, he clarified, _"_ _The Death Eaters."_

She gasped. He was not surprised. After all, the Order of the Phoenix was disbanded now that the war was over, and everybody was eager to turn the page.

" _It's Dumbledore's opinion that I must be ready to return to active spying at any time._ _He_ _doesn't expect troubles for_ _several_ _years-"_

" _Let's hope never!"_ she cried.

" _Anyway, y_ _ou must know_ _I'm under orders to preserve my cover."_

" _I…_ _I understand_ _."_ Suddenly, the Muffliato and all his little paranoid quirks appeared in another, sinister light.

" _It means_ _I_ _can't afford to neglect my relationships with the other side._ _I can't afford to have them suspect me of_ _worse tha_ _n turning coat to avoid Azkaban, like they all did._ _And above all,"_ he added, hammering the point, _"_ _I can't afford to give them any leverage for blackmailing me… Or threatening you._ _Hence the need for not only discretion, but absolute secrecy_ _._ _"_

She could not object to this. She also raised another type of concern. She might not share Dumbledore's fears, there was still the rest of the wizarding world to consider, and not in some vague future.

Prejudices still existed even if they were weaker than in the muggle world. Being both teachers at Hogwarts made things even worse. They were both authority figures and role models. What would usually cause just a few eyebrows to raise, immediately turned into a scandal when a professor was concerned.

Parents sent their children to Hogwarts for months on end, trusting the staff to give them moral guidance, strong principles and good examples.

The students must not know, for authority's sake. The colleagues must not know, or there would be a leak sooner or later, not to speak of the teasing. And above all, the parents must not know, or there would be hell to pay. For the bad example, the supposed corruption of the youth and-

" _-And all the hypocrisy_ _of expecting us to be more morally upward than they are,_ _"_ he finished in a sneer. _"_ _I agree. I_ _can't afford to be driven out of Hogwarts and I_ _don't relish the idea of having my pervert Death Eater past flung in_ _to_ _my face_ _yet again_ _._ _"_

" _It wouldn't be worse than being suspected of prying on my senior students, as is bound to happen if I'm written down as a seduc_ _tress_ _of young men –_ _because the fault will be mine, make no mistake_ _."_

He knew it was true. He wanted nothing more than hold and comfort her – and he could not even hold her hand right now. He sighed in frustration. _"So, we have a myriad of reasons to keep it a secret…"_ He looked at her, eyes pleading. " _B_ _ut I still want this,_ _whatever you call it._ _"_

Minerva looked at him, and she was sure there was no artifice there, that he really meant what he said. That he wanted her. She realised she wanted him so badly herself, she would accept any other condition he put before her.

" _As do I,"_ he was relieved to hear her say, although it was hardly a whisper – but one so breathy and ardent… He tightened the reins of his control. He forced himself to say coolly, though he sounded much too eager to his own ears, _"What do you say? Have we an agreement here?_ _"_

" _An agreement,"_ she repeated. _"_ _That's the word_ _that I_ _was searching for._ _"_ A safe word, to hide behind. _"Yes, we have an agreement."_

So, it was decided. They were both free to find someone else as they saw fit, she proposed. But they must tell the other at once, he said. No cheating while they were together. She agreed of course, with a wry smile: this was not likely to be a problem for _her_. If – _"when,"_ she insisted – it happened, they would part ways amicably and without raising a fuss. They would never advertise anything in public, and no one must know, least of all the Headmaster.

Severus just remarked that he did not think they could dupe Dumbledore for long, but that it would be fun to try.

§§§

_July 1983_

" _What do you mean, you won't be able to stay the month?"_ asked Lucius from his lounge chair. _"You promised to sort the Borgia venture_ _out for me_ _. It's bad enough you're a rather absentee Research Director with your duties at Hogwarts, but you won't let me down on that one. It was_ your _idea in the first place_ _and I maintain Borgia's cheating about the gross margin_ _."_

" _Of course, he is, but you also know I accounted for it in our own profit margin."_

The Malfoys were holidaying in their Capri property – Lucius' way to combine business with pleasure. It was late afternoon. They were beginning to emerge from heat-induced slumber or lazying, and so did the locals as attested by the faint but growing rumble of cars and lorries coming from the muggle town in the distance.

" _I won't abandon you to Borgia's tricks,_ _"_ said Snape. _"_ _I'll just have to return a few days here and there_ _to Hogwarts_ _."_

He slowly stretched his limbs, seemingly oblivious to the knowing looks Lucius and his wife traded and the smile Narcissa gave her husband, that meant _"I told you so."_

He knew he was totally transparent in his desire to spend time with Minerva, but he also knew they wouldn't do more than tease him a little. _Or a lot_ , he thought as a quick glance to Lucius found him smiling wickedly.

He called Moppy for a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice, from their own orchard.

He got another reprieve with the arrival of Draco, who had just waked up from his nap.

His nanny elf carried toys and set them down near Narcissa before leaving. Draco picked his toy wand and made a beeline for his godfather. _"_ _Unca Sevus,"_ he said, _"_ _look!"_ He began to show off random moves with his wand but soon tired of it. He began to tug at the wizard's Bermuda shorts.

Snape rolled his eyes but picked him up and helped him to a few sips of his juice, which promptly turned into the whole glass. _"Narcissa, do_ _you_ _ever_ _feed that boy?_ _I swear h_ _e always leaves me_ _with_ _only a few drops and crumbs."_

" _Serves you right. If you didn't_ _give in to him, he wouldn't pester you."_

" _Draco, I have it on your mother's authority that you're a pest."_ The little boy nodded in eager agreement, as if he had understood. _"What have you to say for your defence?"_

The boy grinned at him. _"_ _Def_ _ence?"_ He only understood one meaning of the word, because he enjoyed watching his father and godfather practice duelling. He picked his toy wand again and brandished it like a sword, aiming straight for Severus with a shout. The wizard clutched his heart, let himself fall back with a long, agonized groan and closed his eyes, not moving any more. _"Mummy,_ _U_ _nca Sevus is dead. I won."_

Lucius laughed. _"Well done, son. Your uncle is speechless_ _someone's finally gotten the better of him_ _."_

" _Of course I'm speechless. I'm dead."_

Soon enough, Draco abandoned Snape to go to his mother. Narcissa sat him in her lap and began with a resigned sigh to read him for the umpteenth time the story of Slythie the Snake.

Snape returned to discussing his schedule with Lucius.

" _Minerva's_ _drafted_ _the last instalment on_ _Earth_ _components but the_ _publication deadline_ _is_ _for_ _mid-_ _August."_

" _What will it be this time? Another metal?"_

" _Minerals_ _. Silicium,_ _calcium_ _and_ _cobalt."_

Lucius whistled appreciatively. _"Pretty ambitious, aren't you?"_

_"Why ever not? But also very practical, and I think good for business."_

_"Oh oh ! Let me guess._ _Silicium_ _:_ _Glass_ _Strengthening Potion_ _compared to Strengthening spell_ _s?_ _'_

" _With Minerva's own variations for mirrors and for china."_

" _Calcium…_ _Bones?"_ Snape nodded. _"_ _Broken bones? I'd say_ _Skele-gro and…_ _Mmm… T_ _he Brackium Emendo Spell?_ _"_

Snape bowed in appreciation of his cunning.

" _And the last. Cobalt. Cobalt… Let me see."_ Watching his friend's complacent look, Malfoy sat bolt upright, alarmed. _"You didn't dare Felix Felicis? Even for the sake of glory-"_

Snape rolled his eyes. _"_ _What kind of idiot do you take me for?_ _I'll pass Scrimgeour's invitation to tour Azkaban again, thank you. But our friend will be glad he's been of use."_

_"Ah! Veritaserum, then?"_

Snape gave him a very smug, _"yes,"_ before adding proudly, _"And Minerva's input is the_ _G_ _lassfoe_ _Spell."_

" _I have to say the witch knows what she's talking about,"_ admitted Malfoy. _"I don't care much for Transfiguration myself. Small margin, and these spells go so easily out of fashion. People like this idea of do-it-yourself, but when the average wizard throws the towel because his Strengthening spell doesn't last the month or the week, he doesn't bother casting it again. He comes and buys one of our Strengthening Potions. So, you're right. This is good business."_

They both laughed.

Snape added, _"_ _Transfiguration Monthly has been pestering_ _Minerva_ _for the next publication_ _to be done_ _before the end of the year and she's been unable to say no, as usual. Potions Monthly and La Gazette de_ _l'Alchimiste_ _won't want to be outdone."_

" _Understandably so._ _Your articles sell well. I won't mind for my part if the stock of Malfoy Apothecaries rises another 2 or 3%_ _after these publications_ _."_

" _Neither will I._ _However, to attain that objective, we have to publish first."_ Snape looked pensively at his knuckles as he added, rather casually, _"_ _I won't kill my owl going to and fro between Capri and Hogwarts to discuss every sentence._ _So,_ _I'll_ _P_ _ortkey to Hogwarts every Monday. I'll stay the night, of course and come back Tuesday for dinner. If I can avoid Dumbledore,_ _that is._ _If not, don't wait for me,_ _I'll return in the night_ _."_

" _Two days a week? That will be some paper, I hope."_

" _It will._ _This way, we'll have time to write the article_ _and bicker about the content,"_ he added wickedly. Lucius smirked knowingly. _"_ _We will also_ _begin_ _our_ _experiments on Fire before deciding what will be worth investigating_ _for the next series_ _."_

Narcissa raised her head above Draco's book, winked at Lucius and asked, much too innocently, _"_ _So, you're playing with_ _fire_ _with Professor McGonagall_ _now_ _?"_

They both enjoyed watching Severus' cheeks turn pink while he sniffed and informed her that she had a dirty mind.

§§§

_1984-1986_

He was obviously still comfortable with the agreement because he persisted to come to her, and more often than she expected at the beginning.

She could not deny that they were good together. She knew he did not look round, and that he had asked Narcissa Malfoy to stop trying to introduce eligible witches to him. It sometimes puzzled her as much as it comforted her.

She rarely sought him out in his own chambers but she took to change to her Animagus form when they were not supposed to be able to meet, just to come to his office and sit in his lap for a little while. She always pretended she took pity on him, since cat purring is a well known relaxant.

He found a way of cheating his way around her forbidding the use of what she called mushy endearments. He had this little litany during intimate times. " _Minerva... Minnie... Mine,"_ as he became increasingly breathless and could not say her full name any more. She would have been surprised to know how much time and thought he had devoted to this little fraud. She did not object because she had much to blush herself when she remembered what she called him in the heat of things. You would have to put her under Crucio, though, before she would admit that she waited every time for him to call her that.

In the summer, she managed to invite him to her family home. He had never watched Highland Games and her son was organizing them for the village this year, and proudly issuing invitations to all and sundry. He did not expect anything beyond seeing her place and her people but he was nonetheless a little put out to see that their rooms were at opposite ends of the house.

She asked him what he expected. He was just a friend and a colleague, as far as they knew, and the house was already full to the brim for the occasion. Besides, her father had been a clergyman and her people were firm believers and rather straight-laced. For many of them, the sin of the flesh was not just words. She refused to make waves just for a week-end.

He sulked a little but managed to get his revenge. He spent his time finding surreptitious ways to touch _Mrs McGregor_ – he took a perverse pleasure in calling her by her married name – and to arouse her. In the end, it was her who came to his room.

§§§

_July 1987_

" _If you'd accept to come to Malfoy Manor or any of the Malfoy properties, there would be none of that hypocritical nonsense. Lucius and Narcissa would just leave us alone."_

" _You know very well I'll never set foot in that household and we always agreed nobody would know."_

" _I repeat that Lucius and Narcissa are not what you think. I told you from the first that they would know… And you've told Molly Weasley."_

" _She's my best friend, and I have nothing in common with the Malfoys."_

" _You do."_ He smirked smugly.

" _What?"_

" _Me."_

She just looked sternly at him, refusing to be baited. She could not help the corners of her mouth to lift, though. Before he tried to sway her again, she counter-attacked. _"_ _We could go to your_ _parents_ _home, if_ _you_ _don't want to come to m_ _ine_ _."_

" _It's no place for a woman."_

" _It can't be that bad."_

" _It's worse."_

" _I would like to see it just the once, to really understand where you come from. And to see that famous lab."_

" _You can't. Even in your Animagus form, it would be dangerous."_

" _Procrastination. It's just a muggle area."_

" _Prudence. They do eat cats you know."_

" _What?"_

" _Yes. It is very similar to rabbit I'm told, and much easier to come by."_

" _You're making that up."_

" _I assure you that I don't. I'm pretty sure I ate some when I was a boy, although they called it Italian rabbit."_

" _It's been five years, and you keep telling me no. I don't understand. I know you were poor, I won't judge you by anything I can see."_

" _It's not the past that bothers me, it's the present. The area is much more dangerous than it was when I was a teenager. The police makes car rounds, but they never step out. It is worse than Knockturn Alley, worse than anything you can imagine. We would have to use Magic to protect us just to go buying bread or milk, and you know what that means. I refuse to have to pull on Albus or Lucius' connections to avoid pursuits… Or to watch you find excuses and be sweet to Moody."_

Somehow, she never visited Spinner's End, even if she always suspected him to make it up.

When they were found in bed by the sister-in-law of her son, Snape refused to believe the busybody to be as candid as she pretended. He sent her packing with a few choice words, but Minerva forbade him to Obliviate her.

Minerva also had her suspicions. Brigid had been a little too obvious in her interest with Severus for her taste. She did not doubt she had spied on him to try to corner him, only to realise she was in fact spying on the both of them. What the woman wanted to accomplish with her piece of meddling, she did not know, but if she asked for trouble, she was going to find it, and without the help of magic.

She had worked herself in an angry, resentful state and was fuming when she went down for breakfast with Severus. Everybody, were they McGregor, McGonagall or Ross instantly recognised her mood and ducked their head, the infamous Brigid included.

No one, of course, dared raise the scandal Minerva had feared for so long, and that she would not care raising now. She recognised at once from the guilty and apologetic looks they shared, that her children and cousins must have nursed their own suspicions and probably sent Brigid to investigate because she was not a direct relative – or because she had drawn the short straw. Maybe bringing Severus home for the fourth summer in a row was not her most clever move.

The meal was eaten in general silence. Everyone's appetite seemed affected, except hers (she was forcing herself to eat, as a statement), his and the children's.

Minerva commented on the weather as if nothing happened. She asked fond questions to distract the bewildered children who were wondering what was wrong with the parents and why they all stared with bulging eyes at Granny/Aunty/Cousin Minerva and at the Professor.

Snape was finding the whole situation funny and made a hearty meal. He complimented Minerva's daughter-in-law on the excellence of her scones, only to have Minerva interrupt him, at her most serious. _"Not the scones, Severus, the crumpets._ _"_

 _"You're right,"_ he deadpanned, following her lead. _"I always prefer a good crumpet."_

He adored her when she was so incensed and flew the most outrageous provocations at anyone who had offended her, whether they happened to be him, her relatives, Dumbledore or the officials of the Ministry.

At the end of the meal, Minerva said, _"I suppose you'd better leave before lunch if you want to finish that brew tonight."_ All eyes turned to her, and then, just as swiftly to Snape, to watch how he was going to take it.

" _Good idea. It'll save us time for the experiment with the salamanders and algaes tomorrow. Try not to be late, we mustn't begin later than one P.M. if we want to finish before midnight, for once."_

" _I'm never late."_ As he raised his eyebrows, she amended, _"well, hardly ever. But I won't be late tomorrow."_

With that final declaration of intention, Severus stood and took his polite leave of his hosts.

He was never invited again. Nobody ever made the slightest allusion before Minerva, but her family tended to be rather ill at ease when wizard visitors asked her questions about Hogwarts and the famous other teachers she worked with, particularly the young Potions master. They knew he was some kind of genius and, from their children's complaints, a hard taskmaster and a terror, but what they wanted to hear was if he was truly a Dark wizard. She would invariably reply that, yes, he had very dark eyes and hair. At this point, one of her relatives would invariably hasten to offer more tea and to change the subject.

They just took to book a B&B for a few days together during the summer break, generally abroad.

§§§

_September 1st, 1991_

There is that phrase that someone is going to be the death of you.

Severus Snape knew, from almost the first moment of setting his eyes on Harry Potter that he would really, literally, be the death of him.

He barely had time to savour Draco's sorting in Slytherin. He almost missed Harry Potter's, thanks to that idiot of Quirrell. The man very nearly fainted on him when Draco sauntered to the Slytherin table with a triumphant look at his godfather. His colleague had to be discreetly helped and revived.

Snape could not understand why Quirrell was returning as DADA teacher, since he knew as well as any one else on staff that the position was jinxed. On the other hand, he was strangely affected since his return by trembling, odd ticks and stuttering. Snape suspected some kind of neurological disease. He probably would not be able to finish the year. Maybe Dumbledore had decided to kill two birds with the same stone: allowing Quirrell to return to Hogwarts as was his legal right after his sabbatical, and filling the DADA position without remorse since the wizard was so obviously ill.

He had to maintain a flow of small talk to keep his colleague alert, but the man was so boring! He discreetly tried to observe Harry Potter, even if there was no need to conceal his interest. Half the room was trying to do the same – the other half did not care to be discreet about it.

The boy sensed he was under watch, because he looked at him several times.

And then, it happened.

His Dark Mark flailed alive for a few agonizing seconds.

If he had not been Occluding to prevent any display of emotion while looking at Lily's and Potter's spawn, he would probably have cried out in horror and attracted all the attention to himself.

He had rushed to Albus' office as soon as possible and the Headmaster had taken the news as gloomily as he feared.

Dumbledore did not ask him if he was sure, if it was not the emotion of seeing Lily's son, or pins and needles for sitting still too long during the sorting.

Snape had been distracted by his Mark, but Dumbledore had not missed that Harry Potter had suddenly clutched his scar in pain too. _"It's begun then,"_ he said.

They looked at each other, and Dumbledore stood heavily to pour them something strong.

" _You're sure it wasn't a call or a summon?"_

" _Sure. It felt like when he was particularly angry or excited."_

Snape drank, only conscious of the mad beating of his heart and the sound of Dumbledore's clock.

" _The boy has Lily's eyes."_

 _Not again._ He answered sharply, _"Yes._ "

They continued in silence, until the Headmaster suddenly said, _"_ _No one must know."_ Snape looked up, at the unusual sternness of the tone, and he found Dumbledore's face much too close as the old wizard insisted, _"No._ _O_ _ne."_

 _He knows,_ he thought. So much for keeping secrets from him.

" _I should ask Lucius if he felt_ _some_ _thing."_

" _No. Not until he asks first. And if you feel anything again, I want to be informed as soon as possible."_

Snape had known that Harry Potter's arrival at Hogwarts heralded his return to active spying. There was no way the Death Eaters who had escaped Azkaban would not stir themselves now. Harry Potter would be under constant observation by their children, as he would be himself – until both their fates were decided.

The Longbottoms' son would be there too. Another added complication, since some still believed he could be the child of the prophecy and not Potter.

But nothing terrified him like the reappearance of his hated, almost forgotten Dark Mark.

Several times, generally in the staff room or during meals, he felt a faint prickling sensation in his forearm. It was driving him mad. He was never sure if it was indeed the Mark or his own misgivings and fear. He could not help running to the loo every time to roll up his sleeve and watch if it was visible. It was not.

Albus' questions did not provide any comfort. It was obvious by now that the Headmaster had always been expecting the Dark Lord to return from whatever magical limbo he had disappeared into in 1981.

The fifth night, a Thurdsay, he watched himself in his bathroom mirror, taking in the dark smudges around his eyes and his almost demented look. He knew he was going for another sleepless night with bouts of panic, even as exhausted as he felt, and even with a Calming Draught. He needed release, any kind of release and the comfort of her arms or he would be going mad.

Minerva was surprised of course, and too tired to be interested, but he was so insistent she let him in her bedroom with a soft chuckle. In the middle of the act, she told him to slow down.

It struck him then.

He was using her.

He was using her as he knew his father was going to use his mother when he came back from the pub with that look in his eyes and he hit Severus, just for being here and standing in the way.

The same look he had seen much too often on Goyle's face or the other Death Eaters' face when there had been blood and torture, or killing. When they invited him to come to Knockturn Alley to release steam, or when they said, in an odd tone, that they were going home.

He was what he had always refused to be. He was no better than Tobias Snape or Mulciber or the others, and he was going to live it all over again.

He had instantly frozen and lost his hard on. Minerva had thought he had taken his pleasure and just teased him that she told him so, but that she was much too tired and that he would have to wait tomorrow to make it up to her. He feigned sleep to avoid any question and rose to leave as soon as he recovered from his shock, which must have been some time.

She groaned softly and opened her eyes. He had not been discreet enough. He bent to kiss her hair, said the first thing that came to mind about needing to have a look at an experiment – _stupid, stupid! She won't believe you_ _–_ and fled her room.

The following day, he tried to apologize. She laughed it off. _"I was much too tired to follow your pace,_ _that's all_ _._ _I_ _wonder what prompted such fierce passion on the first week of term?"_

He mumbled something unintelligible about obnoxious first years and a disastrous class.

" _Honestly, Severus! They can't be that bad. Not the first days, when you put the fear of Snape into them."_

" _They're worse. No wonder, it's your Potter's class."_

He could not tell her the truth, so he left before making a fool of himself. He tried to imagine himself with her in the evening, and he just could not.

He assigned a random detention to a random Gryffindor third year for the evening, just to avoid her.

He did not return for almost two months, and only because he knew she was growing increasingly frustrated with him and would soon corner him, probably to end things. Not that he would blame her, but he still did not trust himself to touch her.

Fortunately, he was a Potioneer, and he made a small fortune every year just with brewing helps for men in intimate predicament.

He had never thought he would brew some for himself.


	11. Chapter 11

**But it was not your fault but mine**

**And it was your heart on the line**

**I really fucked it up this time**

**Didn't I, my dear?**

_(Mumford and Sons, Little Lion Man)_

* * *

Minerva could not understand why Severus was so hard on Harry Potter. The boy was rather timid and modest. When she told him that Harry Potter was much more like his mother than his father, he had coldly left and had not talked to her for several days.

She had been ashamed of herself for bringing Lily back. Obviously, he was far from being over her, or over her death, despite what he told her years ago. She could not fault him there: she would never forget Dougal, after all, and there was always something to remind her of him. If the boy was not a daily reminder of Lily for Severus, she did not know what was.

Somehow, Harry Potter always seemed to bring out the worst in him, just like the mere mention of Severus provoked the boy and his friends to act rashly. She had been several times shocked to hear the lack of respect they had for their Potions teacher, and she could not blame him for the points – not that much, really – he deducted from them.

It was at times like these that she did see James in the boy and she worried. For him, and for their world. Lily was bright, loyal and courageous. She knew what she wanted, and nothing could stop her. She was of the stuff heroes are made of, and if Harry followed in her steps, he would fulfil his destiny. But James Potter, although gifted and undeniably courageous too, had always been rather volatile. He could go from enthusiasm to despair in a trice, and do the rashest things on a whim. She could not deny that Harry was impulsive, not when he always plunged headlong in mad adventures without thinking, causing Severus to almost tear his hair out.

§§§

_1994_

" _Irresponsible! Unreliable! He has nothing to do at Hogwarts and if he hasn't the decency to leave, I will make him."_

" _Severus! Stop that!"_

" _No, Minerva. Don't waste your breath defending that spineless idiot. Dumbledore offers him one of the most complicated and costly medicine in the world, I spend my nights brewing it, and he just decides he has more urgent things to do than drink his Wolfsbane! It would have taken what? Five, ten seconds at most to drink it! What kind of teacher will do that? What kind of responsible adult? Where would we be if he'd turned Harry Potter and his friends?"_

Severus had run like mad to the Shrieking Shack. He had come to Lupin's office to retrieve his goblet, only to find it still full and the man gone. The moves on a magical map, abandoned just as carelessly drew his eyes. He saw red when he read the name of Sirius Black, particularly when he watched the names of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley walking straight to the place. He had left at once, unaware of the frightened or startled looks he collected on the way out of the school. The little idiots were going to be caught between a sadistic murderer and his werewolf accomplice.

Now, he could not get over the fact that the students had chosen to attack him – him! – and that Albus himself had once again turned against him to save Lily's murderer. All right, it had turned that he did not really betray Lily, but the Headmaster did not know it at the time. Nobody knew it, and they still chose to help Black.

They always chose Black against him.

If the werewolf stayed one more minute at the school to top it all, it was him who was going to leave, and sod the consequences!

Minerva was caught in the crossfire. She could not find fault with Severus' feelings, even if she knew he was acting more out of resentment than out of logic. On the other hand, Remus Lupin was the most competent DADA teacher they had in years, and a decent man to boot.

Somehow, Dumbledore must have considered all the possible implications and consequences of hiring a werewolf for a position nobody could hold for a whole year. At least, she hoped so.

She cornered the old wizard like a fury, but he stole the wind out of her sails when he deflated right in front of her. _"I hired Remus Lupin because I thought he was the only one who could recognise and stop Sirius Black if he came here,_ _after Harry Potter_ _. I didn't hide from him that the position's jinxed and that he could very well be killed before the end of the year. He still chose to come."_

He sighed. " _On the other hand, I also understand Severus' predicament. He always passes for the_ _villain_ _while putting all his energy in trying to keep Harry safe,_ _even at great risk for him_ _self_ _. But he knows it can't be otherwise."_

" _Knowing it and living it through what he considers to be another personal betrayal from you are two things."_

" _And what would you have me do, Minerva?"_

" _Speak to him, at least!"_ She shouted. _"You know as well as me that if you'd told him from the first that you hired Remus as a bodyguard for Harry Potter, things wouldn't have turned out so badly."_

" _Are you sure of what you say? We're speaking of Severus Snape, a man who can carry grudges for years."_

She wanted nothing more than throttle him. " _And whose fault is it_ _that he has so many grudges to carry from his school years_ _, Headmaster?"_ she asked in a glacial tone.

" _If you want to hear me say it's mine, I quite agree with you but it's no use lamenting over spilt brew. I tried to make whatever amends I could. I know it's not enough. It will never be enough with Severus. And however cruel it may sound, being exposed publicly as a werewolf is a merciful way for Remus Lupin to leave."_

She fumed. _"You could advice him to resign all by himself, without forcing Severus to make a move he'll regret. Remus doesn't deserve any more bitterness and betrayal either."_

" _You don't understand. Remus stopped hiding his condition a few years ago. He doesn't proclaim it, as you know, and until he became a Professor, he wasn't important enough for anyone to bother inquiring. Now, it will come out sooner or later. I can shoulder the blame, Severus can't. There's no way he'll be able to explain to the Death Eaters and their Pureblood associates that he didn't know. They will be enraged that Black escaped after being spotted at Hogwarts. Remus is the most obvious scapegoat. He needs to return to anonymity for his own safety, while Severus needs to expose Remus Lupin to justify himself."_

" _You planned it that way!"_ She accused, and she could see the plain truth of it in his face. _"You planned from the first that Severus would be the one ousting Remus from the school, and you didn't even have the decency to tell them!"_

" _I didn't plan,"_ he said coldly. _"I calculated the odds, and the probabilities for things to unravel that way were high… But they were higher for Remus' death."_

" _You're just an old hypocrite! As usual, you say only half the truth to Remus, and nothing at all to Severus. They're not just puppets for you to use."_

" _They're grown men who know to assume the consequences of their actions."_

" _How convenient for you."_

" _That's true, but not in the cynical way you pretend to give to my words. Are you sure you'd want to be in my shoes?"_

" _No, because I want to be able to look at myself without saying, here's a cold-blooded manipulator."_

" _Yes, Minerva, I'm a manipulator. Some would call it more kindly a strategist. It comes with the job. But I'll not let you think that I do it coldly, and they both signed for it. Do you think it's so easy? Do you really think these boys I watched grow are just pawns for me?"_

She did not trust herself to answer, when she remembered Severus Snape as a teenager and the double standard treatment he had received at the hands of the Headmaster. Instead, she pleaded, " _Albus, s_ _peak to them."_

He puffed out of his cheeks but finally promised, _"I will."_

Of course, he did not say when.

§§§

_1995_

Minerva was so looking forward to dancing with Severus at the Yule Ball. One dance. She did not ask for more. He grumbled but gave in, provided it was the last, when everyone would be too tired or too busy with their dates to notice them. And she was to be seen pestering him and dragging him on the dance floor against his will, mind you.

It was that awful Igor Karkaroff who prevented it. The nerve of the man! He monopolised the Potions master all evening, arguing, pleading for she did not know what, following Severus like a dog… And forgetting he had tried to trade off his place in Azkaban against Severus'.

She supposed Karkaroff knew he had made a mistake in coming to Hogwarts – to the country of the unforgiving people he had deserted. A coward, betrayed by his own vanity and trying to hide behind Severus.

Severus was far from a coward and he was always so self-assured, so composed in public. But in private, he sometimes startled or paled without a word, and for no obvious reason. It had begun with the Tournament. She believed at first that he was over-stressed. He had not only to compose with Alastor Moody but also with the unknown threats on Harry Potter on top of the permanent circus of the tournament.

And then, Dumbledore called a discreet little meeting at the Hog's Head.

Minerva had been surprised of the place, because she was sure Albus had not spoken to his brother in years. She had been even more surprised, and she was not the only one, to meet there the surviving members of the inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix. Arthur and Molly were already there, as well as Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle arrived later. Sturgis Podmore could not make it, but Hestia was to meet him later and tell him. Neither Alastor nor Severus attended because they were teaching, but they already knew what Dumbledore was going to reveal—that he had reasons to believe that Voldemort was not only alive but gaining strength by the day.

In the evening, she transformed and sought out the Potions master. She found him grading, and he barely lifted his head to smile wryly when she entered. He was surprised however when she transformed. She usually just came in his office for a few minutes of purring and head butting.

" _Dumbledore told us_ _that Voldem-_ _,"_

" _Don't say his name!"_ She watched the scowl she hated transform his face, before he sighed, _"He feels it,_ _through me_ _."_

" _You're_ _worrying yourself sick,_ _aren't you? Dumbledore told us h_ _e'_ _s gaining strength. He has it from you..._ _Through your Mark?_ _"_

He nodded slowly.

" _So, that's why Karkaroff is so frightened?"_ It was not really a question, and she did not ask if Snape was frightened too. How could he not be? She was terrified simply by hearing about it. He _felt_ it, in his flesh.

She did not care that students might have seen her enter. The probability any of them was vigilant enough to recognise her was slim, she insisted, and he could not but agree. She dragged him from his desk and they entered his quarters.

He kissed and touched her just as eagerly as usual, but he was strangely reticent to let her touch him. She quite literally had to tear his clothes off, and it was impossible to miss how he tried to hide his left forearm by holding it tight against his hip before sliding it in her back.

Her eyes never leaving his, she softly cupped his cheek with one hand, and lifted his hand with the other. Then, just as softly, she turned his wrist and watched him blanch.

" _Shhhh,"_ she crooned. _"_ _I don't care."_

His face crumpled and he hid his face in her shoulder. He let her see. He even let her touch it. She outlined it with a light finger and sensed him tense, though he did not make a sound.

He was a member of the Inner Circle. Unlike Death Eaters of lesser rank, the pale tatoo was complete with skull and snake and it would never disappear again, at least while Voldemort was alive. It would turn black when he was called again to his master.

Beginning with his wrist and forearm, she proceeded to make love to him as tenderly and passionately as he had made love to her their first night, and he made love to her as if it was the last time.

When that last time came, much more swiftly than they would have believed, they did not recognise it.

§§§

Minerva thought Severus would get ill when Dumbledore compelled him to shake hands with Black as a public acknowledgement that they would work together to bring Voldemort down.

If only the day had ended with nothing worse than that!

Voldemort had literally flayed Snape alive when he Apparated much later than the others, but he did not kill him outright, for two reasons.

First, because he was not one to give a swift, merciful death to a traitor. He had spent thirteen years nursing his resentment and it was not the time he had spent possessing Quirinus Quirell that allayed his suspicions about Snape's true loyalties.

And then, because he was curious. He wanted to know what he had wondered about all this time: if Godric's Hollow had been a trap, and if Snape knew what happened with Harry Potter to destroy him so.

The one thing that saved Snape was not his true ignorance of the events of the night of Hallowen 1981, it was the vision of his absolute despair and breakdown after Lily's death. He managed to pass it of as grief for the loss of his master.

§§§

Minerva could not stand Lucius Malfoy but she silently blessed him, from the bottom of her heart, for giving his friend first aid and bringing him back. She nearly hexed the man when he called her via the Floo from Severus' rooms, but he was so grim she did not even question him before coming through. _"_ _Take care of him,"_ he said.

Before leaving, he added, _"you_ _didn't_ _see_ _me_ _."_

Minerva called Moppy, who screamed and nearly tear her flesh out at first, thinking her master was dead. Together, they washed him to assess the damage and tried their best, but they had to call Poppy Pomfrey in the end. Minerva swore her to secrecy before she let her tend to Severus. The Matron was inclined to miff, but her start and the look she gave Minerva when she noticed the Dark Mark moving proved it wasn't a useless precaution. Minerva thought wryly that some of Severus' paranoia must have rubbed off, and that it was not always a bad thing.

Poppy had barely left when Dumbledore Flooed in. His brief nod at Maximus Malfoy's portrait explained how he had known to time his arrival. He seemed to have aged several decades in the hours of Severus' absence. Minerva watched him bite his lip as he looked at Severus. _"Take care of him,"_ he just said.

She thought that Severus would have appreciated the irony of Dumbledore and Malfoy agreeing on something.

In the silent vigil of this first night, as she watched for any kind of improvement, worry and grief wormed their way inside her mind. Moppy all but ordered her to rest and conjured her a cot, warning her that _"the master will need Professor Cat fresh and with all her wits about her when he wakes up."_

She just could not rest. She got up again to watch and listen to his breathing. She could not help sinking to her knees, the prayer words coming spontaneously to her lips.

After a time, he woke up too. When he saw her, he turned his head away and cried, until he drifted off again.

In the morning, she begged him not to return ever again before Voldemort.

" _Either way, I'm dead,"_ he said. _"I can at least try to be useful."_

" _Don't speak like that!"_

" _It won't make it less true."_ They stayed silent during a few minutes. Snape was staring. She knew he was rehearsing something – something unpalatable, if he was taking his time.

" _He's given me the benefit of doubt, but I will remain suspect for a long time, I think. I expect he will examine my mind more often and more thoroughly than he ever did before."_

He drew her close to frame her face with both hands. He watched her for a long time, as if memorizing her face, she thought. She felt a shiver of dread.

" _I won't be able to hide you_ _from him_ _on top of the rest,"_ he said.

She understood him at once. It felt like her heart was breaking.

" _Do not regret it_ _,"_ he sneered painfully. _"_ _I will be useless for you…_ _A_ _nd for any one else_ _for that matter._ _"_

With a sinking feeling, Minerva asked, _"did he…_ _Did he_ _do something to you?"_

Snape barked an unpleasant laugh. _"He did some things to me, yes! But not sexually, and he didn't castrate me, if that's what you want to know._ _I just can't afford to let him suspect I have the smallest personal interest in anyone. He doesn't take hostages, he kills them._ _"_

" _I know. W_ _e're through if that's what you_ _need_ _, but we can still be friends,"_ she pleaded _. "Every one knows we write academia together, that we carouse every Friday evening and bet on Quidditch. I'm sure he doesn't expect you to change your routine."_

 _"As you wish,"_ he said, almost with indifference. Almost - but she knew him like the back of her hand.

 _"And you will_ _make your best_ _to stay alive. Do you hear me?!"_ she said with greater confidence. _"_ _He didn't found out the last time, why would he now?"_

" _Y_ _ou must understand he's not what he was any more. Physically,"_ he shuddered, _"he's barely human. Mentally… It doesn't even bear thinking._ _H_ _e warned every single one of us that he would test us... And that we would pay for not looking for him."_

He seemed to reach the end of his tether. His face distorted in anguish and his hand curled painfully on her own. Soon enough – too soon, she thought – he let go and she watched that blank look of his Occluded self descend on him. He told her, _"I owe it to Lily to at least try."_ He hesitated and added, almost timidly, _"and to you_ _too_ _, of course."_

The Floo coming green interrupted them. Dumbledore came through. He looked relieved to see Severus awake and rather well, considering. He turned to Minerva, conveying silently that he wanted her to leave. She put her hand on Snape's arm and looked defiantly at Dumbledore. _"Not this time,"_ she said.

The Headmaster smiled sadly. _"As you wish,_ _but are you sure you don't prefer to ignore the details?"_

She levelled her chin even higher.

Soon enough, it was wobbling, but she bit the inside of her cheek and did not make a sound through the horrid, painful tale.

Dumbledore listened carefully as Snape spoke, only interrupting a few times to precise a point. As usual when he needed time to think or assess a situation, he opened his sweet box, offered them to no avail to Snape and McGonagall, then took his time to choose one and begin to chew on it. _"You have to preserve your cover,"_ he said regretfully. _"_ _You know it."_

" _I will do what I must,"_ Snape sneered. _"Never fear."_

" _What I wish or what I fear is irrelevant. We need you in the serpent's nest. I would trust no one else."_

" _As if you have the choice."_

" _You offered to draw Lucius in the Order often enough."_

" _It's too late,"_ snapped the spy. _"Or maybe too early… To make that move. We'll both be under intense scrutiny to assess our loyalty."_ He exhaled deeply. _"At least, Lucius is partially safe through his marriage vows."_

They all knew what he was speaking about. Rape, with torture and murder had always been one of the Death Eaters' deliberate strategies of terror. Lucius could not be asked to rape or even to seduce anyone because of the medieval fidelity clause he had cunningly added to his marriage ceremony. There was nothing to protect Severus now that he could not count on Voldemort's indulgence any more.

Minerva's haunted look betrayed her fear and disgust.

Snape called Moppy and asked for a certain vial from his personal stock. The elf complied but cast a resentful look at the Headmaster while Snape considered the vial in his hand with revulsion. Then, he opened it and swallowed the content with obvious distaste.

He finally looked at Minerva, rather oddly, until a look of resignation appeared on his face.

" _There. It's done."_

" _What?"_ she asked, looking from Snape to Dumbledore.

Snape answered, totally matter-of-fact. _"_ _Chemical castration. It's undetectable without blood and urine tests."_ As she gasped, he sneered, _"_ _Well, I must be more optimistic than I thought, because I couldn't bring myself to choose_ _the_ _definitive solution."_

He turned to Dumbledore again, but she knew he spoke as much to her as to the old wizard. _"You know I will still have to kill and torture._ _He will make a point to test me._ _I expect to be called no later than tomorrow."_

" _I know you will do what you must. I trust you not to be cruel."_

Dumbledore left. Snape sat without a move or a blink for several minutes. He finally looked up at Minerva who had not moved. She knew he was going to say something harsh and horrible to make her leave.

She moved quickly, throwing herself at him and hugging him. _"Don't you dare!"_ she said. _"Don't you dare say I must leave."_

He did not answer. He was trying, and failing again, not to cry – but he hugged her back.

§§§

She still spent the night, on Fridays, and he even pleasured her orally a few times, although it happened less and less often. He said that her pleasure was all he had left, but she was feeling like she was using him and it naturally came to a stop.

She found another way. She transformed into her cat Animagus and slept like that, tucked against him. He complained she shed everywhere, but she also noticed he seldom touched the Sleep draughts when she stayed in the dungeon. She came more often, almost as often as they used to share the night… Before.

She learned to avoid the nights he was summoned though. Even as a cat, he refused that she witness his less than glorious returns, the despair etched in deep wrinkles on his face with disgust or pain – or both – but she knew, of course. Even he could not detect a well hidden cat in the darkness.

After a time, she stopped being surprised that he carried out his duties the next day as if nothing happened.

§§§

_1996_

She was still stiff from the Stunners, but the Hispanic sun and heat had helped. They had gone on summer holiday as usual – as a statement that life went on, even with the war.

He waited for their return to tell her.

" _DADA? Are you mad?!"_

" _I assure you, I have all my mental faculties. You have to ask Albus if you want precisions. He needs Slughorn at Hogwarts this year."_

" _But... DADA!"_

" _Rumour has it I always wanted the position. I told so myself to Dolores Umbridge not so long ago."_

" _Don't take me for an idiot. Why would you take the risk to be harmed or ousted from the school..."_ Her voice trailed as she realised the full implication of what she was saying and turned rather hysterical. _"...Unless you expect to leave it before the end of the year?!"_

He sighed. _"You know I can't tell you."_

" _And I don't think I want to know."_

She read the words he did not say on his face, in the way he closed his eyes _. No, you don't want to know._

She hugged him, impulsively as always, and he let her.

" _What's to become of us?"_ she said.

It was not a question. He swallowed thickly and stayed silent. She hugged him even more tightly.

 _My poor, poor boy,_ she thought.

§§§

_May 1997._

The full moon and the first real warmth of spring brought loads of moths and provoked her to playfulness. After catching a bellyful of them, she coursed Crookshanks, the half-kneazle, in the corridor, both rather short of breath when they arrived in the Dungeons, a little earlier than usual.

As she passed Severus' wards, she heard the sound of crashing in the bathroom. She made her way towards the door, signalling her arrival by a loud mew.

He shouted, _"don't enter or you'll cut your paws on glass."_ He was already cleaning, but the glimpse she got was not of an accidentally broken vial or two but rather the consequence of one of his most explosive tantrums.

He had fits of anger more and more frequently now, and refused to answer her worried questions. He seemed to have aged ten years in a few months time – since Dumbledore had injured his hand in fact.

Of course, the Headmaster had made light of the injury, but Severus' worry about it was enough to make her realise things were much worse than she could fathom. She knew they were all dancing on the edge of a volcano, and she needed the comfort of his presence as much as he needed hers.

Severus did not say much, but petted her far longer than usual, keeping her in his lap for as long as she tolerated it. The following night too.

The next after that, Filius Flitwick came pounding on his door that Death Eaters were attacking the school and she had to run away to fight without their exchanging even a look.

She watched from afar, with relief, as he deep breathed and resolutely crossed the Death Eater wards on the Astronomy Tower.

Five minutes later, Dumbledore was dead.

§§§

_August 25, 1997_

She had no tears left. Only anger. She would feed on it in the coming months and she would protect the students, even if she had been stripped of all executive power. She swore it to herself.

The pair of almost grotesque individuals – one male, one female – in brand new teaching robes carried themselves with the self-importance and pomposity of people who suffer from a pronounced inferiority complex. Even if they were not high ranking Death Eaters, the Carrow twins would be dangerous, totally unsuited persons to be put in charge of children.

She heard the decided stomp she remembered too well, the one he used when he wanted to impress. The sound increased and neared and she watched every one of her colleagues tense and more or less wince as the black figure entered – even the Carrows.

" _Alecto, Amycus, I see you have already made yourselves at home,"_ the familiar voice drawled.

She braced herself to look up and couldn't refrain a most unwelcome thought. _Oh!_ _Lord_ _! He's so thin!_

She schooled her features to neutrality, praying it wouldn't be too long before she could escape, transform and go kill something.

He was at his most chilly when he saluted her. _"Professor McGonagall."_

He showed nothing. Nothing. The bastard.

She had always known they would not last. She had accepted that the intimate part of their relationship had to stop with the war, but she never expected that they would end on opposite sides and that his face would become the face of her worst enemy.

One way or another, he was going to pay.

She cried herself to sleep.

**The End.**


End file.
